


Vengeful Saviors

by ivy475



Series: Firefly Family Shenanigans [2]
Category: House of 1000 Corpses (Movies), The Devil's Rejects
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Blood, Death, Erotica, F/M, Gore, Light BDSM, Murder, Rape, Sadism, Tragedy, Violence, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:22:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivy475/pseuds/ivy475
Summary: ###Read Devilish Intimacy before you read this!!!!###The story of how Cherry meets Otis and Cutter and how they saved her ass.This fic is extremely dark and graphic. It is for 18 + only! It's rated M for mature and XXX for smut. It will include a lot of cussing, violence, blood, murder, rape, and eventual light BDSM or BDSM undertones. Drinking and drug use are also included.Disclaimer: I do not own House of 1,000 Corpses, The Devil's Rejects, or any of the characters. They belong to Rob Zombie. I only own my OFC and ideas.





	1. Chapter 1

One night, when Gabriel was almost 17, he had his head in my lap while we watched TV. He asked me a question I had been expecting from him for a long time.

"Mama, how'd ya meet Daddy? He's mentioned things over the years but won't gimme any real details. He's always been vague as fuck, like he's hidin' somethin', or there's somethin' he don't want me ta know."

I smoothed his white-blonde hair, which had grown as long as Otis's. "Yer daddy prolly thought ya weren't old enough ta know everythin', but I think ya can handle it. Umm..." I paused, unsure of how I wanted to continue. "How I got involved with yer daddy is kinda fucked up."

Gabriel turned on his back, his red-tinged, blue eyes staring up at me with great interest. "I can take it, mama."

I stroked his scruffy cheek. Looking at him was like ingesting a teenage albino Otis. "Lemme tell ya, son. I never thought in a million years I'd end up marryin' yer daddy. He and Cutter saved my ass one night, and I never expected things ta go further than that. What I'm 'bout ta tell ya happened in 1967 in the ghetto of Dallas, Texas on a hot, muggy night in July. Back then, I went by the alias of Cherry."

His eyes narrowed. "Cherry?" 

He had never heard anyone call me by that name. He had only ever heard the family call me Marlowe. Otis called me by my real name on occasion, but that was extremely rare.

"Yeah. I was a prostitute. I used the name Cherry cuz o' my red hair, and cuz my clients said I tasted like a bowl full o' cherries."

Gabriel's eyebrows scrunched together. "You were a fuckin' whore?"

I laughed. "Yeah."

"I never expected ta hear ya say that. No wonder Daddy's been so damn secretive. He didn't wanna tarnish ya. He knows I think yer a fuckin' saint."

Smiling, I tucked his hair behind his ear. "Well, I definitely ain't no fuckin' saint, son. I mean, our whole family kills fer fun, and I was a whore fer a long time. I started sellin' my body as a teenager cuz I wanted ta get away from my biological family. They were no good, as yer daddy used ta say. I made money that way fer around 5 years b'fore I met yer daddy, and I continued ta do so for another 12 years after that. I had a couple o' different pimps, but the one I had when I met yer daddy was the worst one. His street name was Sleazy Slick or just Slick, but 'is real name was Marquis Jones."

"Did Daddy pay ya fer sex?" Gabriel inquired.

"Uhh, no. He tried, but I never let 'im. I'm 'bout ta tell ya why."

My memories consumed my thoughts, and I began to rattle off about what happened on that night 27 years ago...

************

Perched in front of my vanity mirror, I applied the finishing touches of my usual heavy makeup. I had a puffy black eye which needed to be covered, so I had to use extra concealer. I was already dressed in a skanky crimson outfit. My tits were lifted by a bikini halter top, my ass cheeks were barely contained by a super short mini dress, and red stiletto heels adorned my feet. I definitely looked like I worked the streets.

A sudden banging on my door made me flinch. Grimacing, I sat down my lipstick tube.

"Yeah?" I called.

"Open up, bitch!" Marquis growled.

He snorted, which alerted me to the fact that he was high on cocaine. I was suspicious of a physical attack. That was how I had received my black eye. Marquis had been high as a kite a few days ago and punched me for no reason. He thought I had been getting lippy, but that hadn't been the case at all. He was just being paranoid and delusional.

Sighing, I pushed to my feet and stalked to the door. Opening it, I peered up into Marquis' bloodshot eyes. His pupils were the size of dinner plates, and he had white rings around his nostrils.

"Yes, sir?"

"How come you ain't fuckin' workin'?" he demanded to know.

"I'm gettin' ready. I'm almost done. I got another ten minutes b'fore I'm s'pposed ta be out there," I said in a small voice.

"Git inside, ya stupid bitch!" Marquis boomed. Shoving me into my room, he entered and slammed the door. I stumbled backward and caught my balance on my dresser.

_'Here we go,'_ I thought. My heart jackhammered my ribcage as he approached me.

"Fuck did I tell ya 'bout gittin' smart?" he snarled. "I thought we cleared this lil attitude o' yers up the other day?"

"We did!" I squeaked. "I ain't gittin' smart! I'm bein' honest! I swear! Look at my vanity!"

Marquis eyed the makeup sitting out, but my explanation wasn't good enough for him. "You should already be out workin' and makin' me some fuckin' money!"

"I'm sorry!" I whined. "Please don't hit me again, Marquis!"

"The fuck did I say 'bout callin' me that?! You _never_ address me by my real fuckin' name!" he screamed, spit flying out of his mouth and landing on my face. "Reckon I gotta teach ya another God damn lesson!"

"No!" I begged, lacing my fingers together. "Please, no, daddy!"

"Too late, bitch!"

I cowered as Marquis pulled his right fist back. He was three times my size and could pummel my ass into the ground if he wanted to. Grabbing my hair with his left hand, he yanked my face level with his. I clawed at the hand clamped around my hair, but he was too numb from the cocaine to feel my nails. His fist collided with the side of my head, eye, nose, and jaw several times. Each blow was painfully sharp. My eye socket and nose crunched and a few of my teeth loosened. My face swelled instantly.

The room turned fuzzy, my ears rang, and my knees gave out. As I sunk to the floor, blood dripped from my face and my head throbbed. My living quarters spun like I was drunk, but Marquis wasn't finished yet. He stomped on my head, almost rendering me unconscious. Stars filled my eyes, and he kicked my ribs several times. One last punch to my face put my lights out for good.

*************

I awoke several hours later facedown in a pool of my own dried blood. It was dark outside and Marquis was gone. I had no idea what time it was. I couldn't breathe out of my nose and my head and face were sore and tender. My head hurt like a mother fucker. I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Inhaling deeply through my mouth, I winced from the amount of pain in my side. I was positive I had either bruised or broken ribs. A wave of nausea washed over me. I tried to scramble to my knees, but agony seared through my ribcage.

"Fuck!" I cried.

Groaning, I slowly pushed up on all fours and crawled toward my bathroom. I made it just in time to hurl into the toilet. Blood mixed in with my vomit from the damage to the inside of my mouth. I needed to check out my face and head, but I couldn't remember where a washcloth was.

"That motherfucker gave me a concussion," I realized, moaning.

Speaking hurt my jaw. I needed medical attention, but how was I going to get it? I couldn't just call 911 and tell an EMT my pimp had beat the shit out of me. Marquis would kill me if I did that.

My stomach rolled and I emptied my stomach into the toilet again. Desperate to wash out my mouth, I gripped the sink and forced myself to stand. Flipping on the light blinded me, I threw my hand in front of my face.

It took a few minutes for me to adjust to the brightness, probably due to the concussion. Once I felt I could withstand the light, I glanced in the mirror. I wasn't shocked at what I saw. Both eyes were almost swollen shut, my lip was split, and my nose was broken. I had a nasty gash on my eyebrow and temple, and a laceration on my head. My entire face had turned into a massive bruise.

"I can't work like this!" I whined.

I began to sob, but crying hurt my injuries way too much. I had to suck up my emotions and put on my big girl panties. Spying a washcloth on the sink, I turned on the hot water and wet it. Holding it to my face, I breathed in steam. The warmth was nice, but I required ice instead. I cleaned myself up as best as I could to get a good look at the damage. I needed stitches in a few spots.

Too tired to help myself, I washed out my mouth and climbed into bed. I didn't even bother to cover up before I passed out.

When I woke again, it was daylight. My entire body was on fire. I had no choice but to go to Marquis and beg for help. I doubted he would care, but I didn't know what else to do.

Still dressed in the same clothes I had on the night before, I sludged out of bed. The slightest movement hurt my ribs, so I had to be extra careful. The room spun as I stood, and I braced myself against my dresser. Using the wall for support, I trudged to the door and opened it.

Marquis' apartment was three doors down. Time stood still as I stumbled towards his living quarters. Knocking on his door, I mewled for my master. He yanked open the door right away, his hatred-filled, bloodshot eyes staring down at me. It was like he had been waiting for me. He had probably been paranoid and peeking out the peephole. He had been up all night snorting coke.

"Oh, Cherry," he said, snickering. "I really fucked ya up this time."

"Mmm, hmm. I need a doctor," I muttered.

Grabbing my wrist, Marquis wrenched me inside and slammed his door.

"Shit!" My free hand flew to my ribs.

"You ain't gittin' no fuckin' doctor." He sneered. "Yer a fuckin' whore. Whores don't get medical help. You take what I give ya and fuckin' live with it."

"Please, daddy. I have a concussion. I been pukin'. My nose is broken. I got broken ribs. I can't work like this."

"The fuck you can't! Yer gonna go git ready and work the streets like the lil bitch you are!"

"I can't! Please, sir! I need help!"

A hard smack to the face put me on my backside. The apartment blurred. I was too stunned to move.

"Fuck you, bitch!" Marquis jumped on top of me like an aggressive dog. "You don't wanna work, yer gonna gimme some pussy!"

"No!" I hollered, intensely aware I had no panties on.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He wrapped his giant hand around my throat and squeezed. I was too injured and exhausted to put up a fight. Unzipping his pants, he stroked his cock and rammed it inside of me. My mouth opened to scream, but nothing came out. His hand was clamped around my windpipe too hard for anything to escape.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Marquis moaned, pumping furiously into my dry pussy. "Yer a tight lil bitch."

My air supply was cut off, and my pussy had been torn by his horse cock. I couldn't breathe. I pulled on his hand, but I had no strength. A comforting blackness enveloped me. I was dying and I couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Fuck off! I'm busy with one o' my whores!" Marquis roared.

His voice was dulled, far away. I had no idea why he was even talking. I hadn't heard anyone knock or speak.

As I slipped from reality, a muffled gunshot rang through my hazy ears. Marquis' hand loosened and he slumped forward, his weight crushing my damaged ribs. I coughed and gasped for air, ignoring the stabbing in my side. My vision turned from black to fuzzy to normal as I steadily took in oxygen.

Someone had shot Marquis in the head, but I couldn't see who it was because his large frame was blocking my view. Blood oozed onto the floor next to me. I wasn't sorry he was dead. In fact, I felt no remorse at all.

"Holy shit, darlin'!" an unfamiliar voice marveled. "You must be one o' his whores!"

A chunky man in fading clown makeup who looked like he came from a horror film or some kind of haunted house gaped over Marquis' shoulder. His eyes were dark brown and full of wonder. I was too busy breathing to be frightened.

"He almost killed you!" He pulled Marquis off of me and tossed him aside. The only thing clownish about him was the makeup. He had on regular clothes. "He beat the holy guacamole outta you! Are ya alright?"

Still hacking, I barely shook my head.

"What's yer name, girl?"

I wheezed and sputtered, but no words came out.

"I don't think she can talk, Cutter. He had a hold o' her throat pretty fuckin' good. He might o' crushed her Goddamn windpipe."

There was another man with Cutter. He mosied up next to the thick man. He was tall and lean and had long blonde hair and intense icy blue eyes. They were full of hellfire.

Kneeling down, he cupped my jaw and gently turned my head to assess the damage Marqui had previously done. I didn't bother to try and fight him. Even though his eyes held animosity, there was something special about him. Deep within the brimstone, there was a flicker of understanding and wisdom. I trusted him even though I had no reason to.

"Slick fucked her up good," he stated, his eyes lifting to Cutter. "She needs stitches. Her pupils are blown, too. She's got one fuck of a concussion."

"Reckon it's a good thing we came along when we did, huh?" Cutter put his gun away and bent down to look me over.

"Yeah, I'd say so." The blonde nodded, his flaming orbs sliding over me. His fingertips skimmed my ribcage, making me wince. "She's got some broken ribs. Slick raped the fuck outta her, too. Busted her wide fuckin' open. Look at the blood between her thighs."

Cutter grunted and gestured to Marquis' body. "You work for this fuckin' asshole?"

Rubbing my throat, I croaked. My pussy pulsed with my heartbeat and burned something awful. I could feel the split from Marquis' huge cock.

"Otis, start lookin' fer my goddamn cocaine," Cutter instructed. "It's gotta be here somewhere."

The blonde huffed and stood up. I motioned for a drink.

"Better yet, git this girl some water. Maybe she'll be able ta talk and help us out," Cutter added.

I bobbed my head. Of course, I would help them. They had just saved my life.

Otis stepped away from us and into the kitchen. I just laid there and continued to breathe. My throat was raw, my head pounded, and my ribs screamed with each inhale.

"I'm gonna ask ya some questions, alright?" Cutter grasped my hand. "Ya squeeze once fer yes and twice fer no, ya hear?"

I squeezed once.

"Good. You work fer this fuckin' asshole?"

I squeezed again.

"Reckon ya don't no more since I busted a cap in 'is dome, huh?"

I squeezed twice.

"That's right, ya don't. Yer free now." Cutter raised his eyes toward the kitchen, where Otis was filling a glass with water. "What the fuck's takin' so long, son?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Otis spat. "Yer so fuckin' impatient!"

"Well, hurry the fuck up!"

"Fuck you, man!"

Patting Cutter's arm to gain his attention, I pointed to some keys hanging on the wall. He followed my finger.

"Slick's?" he asked.

I squeezed his hand. That keyring had the key to Marquis' safe, which most likely contained the coke Cutter wanted so badly.

"S-safe," I stuttered under my breath.

Otis wandered over and sat the water on Marquis' desk. "We gotta help her sit up. She can't drink lyin' down."

"Right." Cutter let go of my hand.

"Just take it easy, mama," Otis said softly, bending down. "We're gonna lift ya up under yer arms and put ya on that lil couch over there." His eyes flicked to a loveseat against the wall.

I groaned, not looking forward to the pain I was going to feel when they moved me. I winced as they hoisted me up and helped me over to the couch. At the last second, Otis pushed Cutter aside and carefully eased me down onto the cushions. Cutter ignored him and snatched the keys from the wall. Gritting my teeth, I shifted to take the pressure off of my defiled pussy.

"Now where's that safe?" he asked, sauntering over to me.

I pointed to Marquis' desk.

"You know which key it is?"

Nodding, I used my fingernail to flick it from the ring.

"Good girl." Cutter disappeared behind the desk.

Otis dropped down in front of me. "First thing I'm gonna do is take off these fuckin' heels. Ya don't need these on. All they're gonna do is make ya fall on yer ass."

I grunted my agreement. He unstrapped them and pulled them off. His touch was gentle, his fingers rough. He had a working man's hands.

"I'm gonna git ya that water, too." Reaching over to the desk with a lanky arm, Otis picked up the glass and held it in front of my face. "Don't drink too fast. Might make ya sick," he advised.

Moving my head up and down, I gingerly took the glass. I almost dropped it, but Otis closed his large hand around mine.

"I gotcha, mama. Go on," he urged.

I tilted forward and drank slowly. The water was ice cold and soothed my throat immediately. Otis stared into my eyes while I drank. I couldn't help but gaze back. He was an extremely attractive man. He had the most gorgeous blue eyes I had ever seen. His full lips were hidden by a bushy mustache and beard. I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

_'The fuck's wrong with me?!'_ I thought. _'I was just raped! I shouldn't be thinkin' like this! Guess I really am just a fuckin' whore after all.'_

"Alright, that's enough," Otis murmured. "Don't wan'cha gittin' sick."

He tugged the water from my weak grip. As he set the glass on the desk, the lean muscles in his arm rippled.

"Holy Miss Moley, I just hit the fuckin' jackpot!" Cutter announced, his tone triumphant. He began to pile bags of coke on the desk. "There's more here than we fronted that motherfucker. Some o' this shit ain't ours."

"Good. We'll make more money then we put out." Otis returned his attention to me. "Can ya talk? What's yer name?"

I cleared my throat. "Cherry."

"Reckon ya use that name cuz o' yer red hair." He raised a hand close to my face, making me flinch. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, mama," he promised softly. "I just wanna take a look."

"Alright," I croaked.

Delicately, Otis peeled my hair away from the gash on my head. Eyeing the cut on my eyebrow and temple, he glowered. "Cutter, did ya put the first aid kit in the car like I told ya to?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Told ya the girl needs fuckin' stitches, ya old bitch hog!"

"Son-"

"You got yer fuckin' coke! Go git the fuckin' kit!" Otis ordered harshly.

Cutter sighed. "Alright, alright."

"She helped us, so we're gonna help her," Otis stated firmly.

"We already helped her," Cutter reminded him. "She ain't one o' yer Goddamn art projects, son."

_'What the fuck's that s'pposed ta mean?'_ I thought.

"Cutter," Otis cautioned. Baring his teeth, he shot him the evil eye.

Annoyed, Cutter blew out a puff of air. "Alright, fine. I'll go git the fuckin' kit."

He marched towards the door, which he and Otis had kicked in and jammed shut. I had been so close to death, I hadn't heard the commotion. Cutter tore the door open and walked out, closing it behind him as best as he could.

"Fuckin' asshole," Otis grumbled, shaking his head.

"Is it gonna hurt?" I squeaked.

"What? The stitches?"

"Yeah."

"Nah. I got an antiseptic cream in the kit called Lidocaine. It'll numb ya up pretty good, but ya might feel a lil pressure. This ain't my first time stitchin' someone up."

"What 'bout my pussy? Marquis ripped me open." Whimpering at the memory, I held back a sob. I didn't want to start bawling. That shit hurt too much.

"I can take care o' that too," Otis said under his breath, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"How ya know how ta do all this?"

"You don't wanna know. It's best ya don't. Trust me when I tell ya I ain't a nice man." 

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. He had been alright so far. Maybe he meant he was a criminal and didn't want to go into any details.

"Ya know, fer bein'...uhh...partners or whatever, y'all sure do talk ta each other like shit," I pointed out.

Otis grinned. "It's a lil more complicated than that. Didn't ya hear 'im call me son?"

"Yeah."

"Cutter kinda adopted me. It's a long story." 

"Oh."

He tenderly ran a fingertip over my windpipe. "Yer already bruisin' where that prick had ya by the throat. Why'd he do this shit to ya?"

"Marquis' been high fer days. I don't think he's slept fer an entire week. I didn't do nothin' wrong. He thought I was gittin' smart, but I wasn't. He was delusional and paranoid. He fucked me up last night cuz I called 'im Marquis instead o' sir, daddy, or master."

Otis rolled his eyes. "Typical fuckin' cokehead binge behavior." His eyebrows knitted together. "He made ya call 'im that shit? Why not just boss?"

I rolled a shoulder forward. "Dunno. He was an asshole. I ain't sorry he's dead."

He chuckled. "Me either. I hated that prick. That bitch owed us money and refused ta pay. Cutter warned 'im we was comin', but that fucker laughed at us. Ya see where that shit got 'im."

"Dead," I muttered. "Can I git some more o' that water?"

"Sure, mama."

Otis helped me hold the glass again. As I sipped, he probed my eyes with his own. A light shiver climbed my spine. It was almost like he caressed my soul. "Ya know, I got a feelin' that when yer face ain't all fucked up, yer a real pretty girl."

His genuine compliment made me smile, which hurt my split lip. "Thank you."

"I'm gonna have ta reset yer nose," Otis declared.

"Fuck," I breathed. "You can do that?"

"Yeah. It's gonna hurt like a motherfucker, too. But it's either that or yer deformed fer the rest o' yer life. Yer too young and pretty fer that."

"Then do it."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Right now?"

"Yeah. Git it outta the way," I insisted.

"Well, I usually use ice ta bring down the swellin' b'fore I do that, but..." Otis undid his belt buckle.

"W-what are ya doin'?" I yammered, my thoughts going back to being raped.

Pausing, he tossed me a sympathetic look. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, mama. I'm givin' ya somethin' ta bite down on."

"Oh." I relaxed immediately. "Okay."

Otis pulled his belt from the loops of his pants and folded it in half. His pants slipped down slightly, revealing his lean abs and prominent sex lines. The man was hotter than a pile of smoldering coals. I longed to touch him.

I berated myself on the inside. _'Stop it! I've just been raped! What the fuck is wrong with me?!'_

"You got any fucked up teeth from Slick beatin' on ya?"

"Yeah, but they're in the back. They're more loose than anythin'."

"Open yer mouth."

I obeyed. Removing a tiny flashlight from his pocket, he shined it inside my mouth.

"You'll be alright." He held up the belt and rested it between my lips. "Bite down."

I complied, and he cupped my jaw in both hands. His belt tasted like leather and dust from the desert, and it burned the split in my lip.

Otis edged between my open thighs and leaned in close. "This is really gonna hurt, darlin'," he murmured, his eyes holding empathy.

I huffed stubbornly and closed my eyes. "Do it," I said around the belt.

He didn't waste any time. Pinching my nose right above my nostrils, he forced the broken bones to my left. Screaming around the belt, I lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

As I regained consciousness, Otis and Cutter's muffled voices bounced off of my eardrums. Their conversation slowly cleared up until their voices were normal.

"Why are ya so hellbent on helpin' this bitch?" Cutter demanded to know.

"Cuz I been where she's at!" Otis snapped.

"That's never led ya ta do anythin' even remotely like this b'fore. The fuck's wrong with you t'day? Ya sure ya ain't sweet on this girl? I mean, I would git it if ya are, but she's a whore. She'll never have a thing fer ya, son."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Cutter snickered. "That's it, ain't it? Yer sweet on her."

Otis muttered something inaudible yet vicious. Inhaling sharply, I winced. I tried to open my eyes, but they only moved back and forth under my eyelids. They were as heavy as lead.

"Hey, she's comin' alive," Cutter announced.

"Oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ! This ain't a fuckin' horror film! She ain't a fuckin' zombie, man!" Otis gently shook my shoulder. "Cherry..." 

"Hmm? Wha...?" I groaned.

My eyes fluttered open. Otis's fuzzy face hovered in front of mine, his attentive blue eyes and damp lips just inches from my own. He lightly wiped under my nose with a wet rag, removing excess blood. My nose throbbed like a bitch.

"You made it. I reset yer nose. It's just now clottin'," he said, holding up a cloth full of ice. 

"Thanks," I mumbled.

Otis tipped his head. 

Cutter loomed over his shoulder. "Ya look like hell, girl."

Otis rolled his eyes. "Ignore 'im. He's a fuckin' asshole."

Cutter chuckled. "I calls it like I sees it, son."

Otis glared at him over his shoulder. "I know that, but she don't need ta hear that shit right now." 

"Aww, shit," I whined as my stomach rolled. "I'm gonna puke."

"Shit, fuck!" Otis grabbed a trash can from next to Marquis' desk. 

Cutter backed away to give me a little privacy. Otis held it under my face just as I hurled water, bile, and blood into it. If he hadn't snatched that can, I would have thrown up in my lap.

"That's the Goddamn concussion," Cutter snarled. "A lot o' that blood is from her nose. I dunno, man. She might be damaged beyond repair. Ya might be wastin' yer Goddamn time. She might die, son."

"No fuckin' way," Otis refused. "I've seen _a lot_ o' dyin' girls. I'm tellin' ya, this one'll fuckin' make it." 

I was too sick to contemplate what that meant. Again, I emptied water, bile, and blood into the trash can. Puking hurt my ribs, and I mewled. Tears spilled over and dripped into the can, mixing with everything else. Coughing, I spit leftover stomach fluid into the can.

"I hate throwin' up," I whined, holding my gut.

"It'll pass," Otis promised. "It always does."

"Let's leave her fer someone else ta find," Cutter suggested. "Slick's got other whores. One of 'em is bound ta come along eventually."

"I got a better idea," Otis stated stubbornly.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Let's take her ta that fuckin' nutsack, Charlie."

"My brother ain't gonna wanna deal with her."

"Think ya might be wrong about that. Look at her. She's a fuckin' mess right now, but she's fuckin' gorgeous. He owns a whore house, fer fuck's sake! She'll make 'im a lot o' money. She'll be good business fer 'im."

"She's also been _raped_," Cutter emphasized.

"What, ya think whores never get raped?!" Otis asked, his tone incredulous. "Cut the fuckin' shit, man! She'll be okay. Charlie can have her tested, make sure she's clean and not impregnated. He scratches her back, she scratches his. See what I'm sayin'?"

Otis was right about that. This was my first time getting raped, but plenty of others whores I knew had been ravaged multiple times. 

My stomach was empty, and I dry heaved into the can.

"Why ya give a fuck?" Cutter demanded to know.

"She's tough. She's got potential."

"Like I said earlier, she ain't one o' yer Goddamn art projects, son."

"No, but she can be one o' Charlie's." Otis sighed. "Listen, man. This girl don't got a job no more. What the fuck's she s'pposed ta do, huh? Charlie's way different than Slick. He won't fuckin' beat her, rape her, or rip her off. I might not like 'im too much, but he'll do right by her. He'll treat her good and take care o' her. This girl's a fuckin' knockout. Charlie'd be stupid ta say no."

"Well, what if he don't wanna take her? Then what?"

"Then I'll fuckin' _make_ 'im," Otis hissed.

"You ain't gonna make my brother do shit!" Cutter said firmly. "Yer really actin' outta character t'day, son."

"Shut the fuck up! We're takin' her ta Charlie's! End o' discussion!" Otis sneered. "Why don'cha git yer coke and anything else ya want t'gether, start takin' that shit to the car, and git off my fuckin' hide? I got shit ta do, and I need ta fuckin' concentrate! Slick prolly has plenty o' jewelry and shit we can sell."

"Fine, whatever." Cutter knew Otis was right. He mosied around Marquis' apartment, combing it over for anything he deemed useful. When he found something he wanted, he sat it on Marquis' desk.

My nausea finally passed, and I lifted my head from the trash can. "I'm alright, I think. Fer now."

Otis nodded and set the trash can in its original spot. As I rested against the cushions, he wiped tear tracks from my face.

"How would ya feel 'bout lettin' me put some coke under yer tongue?" he proposed, tilting his head to the side. "It wouldn't git ya high. It would just numb yer face a bit so yer nose don't hurt so much. It's really the best thing ta do fer yer pain. I can't give ya Aspirin or anythin' like that cuz it thins the blood. Ya've already lost enough blood, plus yer pukin'. A regular pain reliever might not stay in yer system."

"Umm..." I clicked my tongue. 

"Or, I could mix the coke with this saline solution I got in the med kit, put it in a syringe without a needle, and squirt it up yer nose. It would burn fer a minute, but it would work pretty quick. Again, ya won't get high. It'll just help with the pain."

"What're ya, a fuckin' doctor or some shit?" I asked dryly. It was more of a joke than anything. Otis was no doctor; just an intelligent criminal.

He chuckled softly. "Me and Cutter git in ta some pretty wild fuckin' shit. I've been shot, stabbed..." His blue eyes shifted around while he thought. "He's been injured several times. Ya gotta know how ta take care o' yerself in those situations. Can't exactly go see a doctor or go ta the hospital."

I grunted. What he said made sense.

"Here, hold this." Otis laid the cloth with the ice in my palm. "Put it on yer eyes and nose while I get the shit ready fer yer stitches."

Nodding, I relaxed into the love seat as best as I could and closed my eyes. Lying the ice on my face, I alternated between my eyes and nose. "God, this shit hurts."

"I know, mama." He rummaged around inside a plastic box. Items clicked and clanked as he pulled out what he wanted and arranged them on Marquis' desk.

"What 'bout this makeup I got on?" I asked. "I'm sure it looks awful. Won't that be in yer way, or couldn't it give me an infection?"

"I took care o' that while ya were unconscious," Otis said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Cleaned yer wounds, too. I gotta say, ya look a lot better without all that makeup," he voiced.

"Really?" I was a bit taken aback by that comment.

"Yeah. I git ya wear it cuz yer a whore, but ya don't need it."

My lips turned up into a tiny smile. "Thanks."

"So how 'bout that coke solution?" Otis inquired, changing the subject. 

"Umm..." I chewed my cheek. "Ya said I won't get high that way? I never was a fan of cocaine."

"No." He shook his head. "It'll just numb ya."

"Alright. Let's try the syringe first. If that ain't enough, you can put some under my tongue."

"Good decision," Otis said. "Just relax a minute."

I did as I was told while he mixed the coke and saline. "Fuck, this ice is so cold it hurts," I groaned.

"Yeah, that's normal, but it's necessary."

"Cutter?" I called, switching to my other eye.

"Yeah?" He moved towards us, his footsteps heavy.

"Marquis has another safe, a hidden one. I fergot about it 'til just now. Must be the concussion. It's behind that pic on the wall behind 'is desk with the naked lady. There's cash, jewelry, and other shit in there. He kept all that separate from 'is drugs."

"Does it got a key or combination lock?" he asked.

"A key. Lemme take a look at that keyring." 

I removed the ice so I could see. Otis took it and set it aside. Cutter pulled the ring from his pocket and held it up. Eyeing it for a second, I pointed at one of the keys. 

"Good girl," he said. Strolling behind Marquis' desk to the picture I had spoken of, he removed it from the wall. "Sweet baby Jesus, would ya look at that!"

Otis held a needless syringe up in front of my face containing a white liquid. He had finished mixing the coke and saline. "Put yer head back and close yer eyes." 

Complying, I rested the back of my head on the couch cushions and inclined my face toward the ceiling. "Ya said it'll burn?"

"Just fer a minute. Then ya won't feel shit."

"Alright."

"Yer gonna feel gauze under yer nose so I can catch whatever runs out."

I grunted. Otis pressed gauze above my lip and squirted the solution up both nostrils. As soon as the liquid hit my flesh, it burned like holy water.

"Christ!" I exclaimed, doing my best not to squirm.

"Just give it a second. It'll go away," Otis said in a soothing tone.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. He swiped them away with his thumbs once my nose stopped leaking. My face began to numb immediately. Releasing a sigh of relief, I opened my eyes.

"Better?" he inquired.

"Yeah," I marveled. "It's sorta like goin' ta the dentist and gettin' a shot o' novocaine."

Otis grinned. "That's what I wanna fuckin' hear."

"Thank you. I feel a lot better."

He tipped his head. "Time fer yer stitches. Yer lip don't need sewn shut. That'll heal just fine on its own."

"Okay."

"I'm gonna do this Lidocaine cream. It takes a few minutes ta work, then it'll wear off in a couple hours. Just do what ya did when I put that solution up yer nose."

"Alright."

I relaxed and closed my eyes. Otis applied the Lidocaine around the edges of all the cuts that needed to be stitched. He worked quickly and was finished in about two minutes. It was like he had done it a hundred times.

"Gotta give that a minute ta set in," he said, his warm breath wafting over my face.

I cracked my right eye open to peek at him. He was scanning my face for additional injuries, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. Satisfied, he nodded and ran his tongue over his lip.

"Everythin' look alright?" I inquired softly.

"Yes." 

I hadn't noticed before, but Otis had a crooked front tooth and a tiny lisp. I hoped the concussion was beginning to clear up and I was regaining all my senses. Maybe I would perceive other attractive physical qualities of his. 

_'Oh, God! Stop! I've been raped! What the fuck is wrong with me?!'_ I thought.

Gulping, I cleared my throat. "Can I try some more o' that water?"

"Sure, but just a lil. Don't want ya pukin' again."

"Mary fuckin' Moses! Slick's been holdin' out on us!" Cutter declared. His hands were busy in Marquis' safe.

As Otis reached for my water, he glanced his way. "Wha'cha mean?"

"This motherfucker gots all kinds o' gold jewelry in here and piles o' cash!"

"Told ya," I muttered.

Otis's eyebrows knitted together. "How much fuckin' cash is in there?" 

"Well, I don't rightly know. It's a lot. I'm 'bout ta count it." Cutter began piling money and jewelry on the desk. "You just keep workin' on her."

Otis grunted and turned back to me. "Here ya go, mama." He held up the glass of water.

Wincing, I sat up as best as I could. Like earlier, he helped me drink. Those fierce blue eyes of his flicked back and forth between Cutter and I while I sipped. Every time he glanced at Cutter, they narrowed. He had tiny age lines. Whenever he focused on me, they softened.

"How old are you?" I blurted.

Otis quirked an eyebrow, his forehead puckering. "What?" 

"How old are you?" I ingested the tiny bit of grey around his temples.

His lips pursed. "Prolly old enough ta be yer daddy," he mused.

"No, really."

Otis shrugged. "38."

"I'm 23."

"See?"

I released a soft laugh. "That's only 15 years."

"It's still enough of a gap ta be yer daddy. Teens fuck and have babies, ya know." Otis pried the glass from my weak grip, his eyes glittering. "That's enough o' that fer a while. Let's see how ya do with what's in yer stomach."

"Alright."

Setting the glass aside, he barely touched the wound on my eyebrow. "Can ya feel that?"

"No."

"Why ya wanna know how old Otis is?" Cutter asked, setting a pile of cash aside.

"Just curious," I said, rolling a shoulder forward.

"You finished countin' that money?" Otis inquired, taking the focus off of me.

"Yeah. It's $1000," Cutter said.

"Put $200 o' that aside fer Cherry."

"What?! Yer out'cher Goddamn mind, son!"

"Just fuckin' _do it_, damn it! We wouldn't even have that shit if it weren't fer her! We're gonna make it all back and more from all that extra coke anyway!" Otis pointed out. "She's gonna need that money once we git her ta Charlie's. She's gonna have ta buy shit, like clothes or whatever."

Cutter rolled his eyes and huffed. "Alright, fine. What a bunch o' fuckin' horseshit."

Otis bared his teeth, his eyes incinerating into lava pools. He was about to lay into Cutter, but I grazed his scruffy cheek to get his attention. 

"Otis?" As he returned his fiery gaze to me, the molten rock cooled. "Thank you," I whispered.

"Sure, mama. Let's do those stitches."

"Okay." I dropped my hand to his shoulder.

"You just hold on ta me if ya wanna. Yer gonna feel some pressure. It's prolly gonna feel kinda weird, but this shouldn't hurt," Otis informed. "I gotta wipe away this Lidocaine first."

"Alright, I'll do that." I gripped his shoulder, which was lean and hard with muscle.

"Lay back and close yer eyes. And whatever ya do, don't fuckin' move," he instructed.

"I'm makin' a trip outside," Cutter said. "I'll be right back."

"Cutter, there are duffel bags in that closet over there if ya need 'em." I jabbed a finger in its direction.

"Yeah, that would be helpful." Cutter dug around in the closet and began to load a bag.

I did what Otis had told me to do. Nestling into the couch, I closed my eyes. After he had cleaned away all the Lidocaine from my wounds, he pinched the gash on my head together. As he had said, all I felt was pressure. I squeezed his shoulder, his muscles tense under my hand.

"Alright, mama. Here we go," he mumbled.

Occasionally, I felt him tie some thread and heard the snip of a pair of scissors, but there was no pain. I just breathed as deeply and evenly as I could and did my best to hold as still as possible. 

"One gash down, two more ta go," Otis announced.

I grunted. He stitched my temple in no time. It wasn't until he began to sew my eyebrow that tears spilled over.

"Ya alright?" he asked.

"It don't hurt. Must be a natural reaction."

"Yeah. I don't mean ta freak ya the fuck out, but I could see yer fuckin' skull b'fore I closed up that gash."

"Jesus," I hissed.

"What the fuck did Slick do to ya?"

"Uhh..." I thought back to the night before, which was kind of hazy. "He had a hold o' my hair pretty good. He hit me in the face several times. When I fell ta the floor, he kicked me in the ribs and stomped on my head."

"Fuck me..." Otis breathed. "Yer lucky ya ain't fuckin' dead. That explains the bump on the back o' yer head, though. I felt it when I was lookin' ya over while you were passed out and I was cleanin' ya up."

I humphed.

"I told Cutter you were tough."

"It's prolly just not my time ta leave this planet," I reasoned.

"Maybe." Otis sighed and set the scissors down with a tink. "Alright, I'm done. Open yer eyes. Does anythin' feel weird or too tight?"

My eyes flickered open. A strand of Otis's hair was hanging in his face. Removing my hand from his shoulder, I plucked it from his beard and tucked it behind his ear. His nostrils flared and he stopped breathing. His eyes traveled over my face and landed on my lips. It was like there was an invisible magnet pulling us together. I wanted to kiss him, but it wasn't the right time. I wasn't sure if there would ever be a right time.

I berated myself on the inside. _'What the hell am I thinkin'?! God, I really am a fuckin' whore!' _

"No, everythin' feels okay," I murmured, clasping his shoulder. "What're we gonna do 'bout my..." I grimaced.

His eyes dropped to my open thighs. "Oh, I haven't fergotten about that. I'm gonna need ya ta lie down fer that."

"I won't lie in Marquis' bed," I insisted.

"The floor'll do just fine," Otis said. 

Cutter barged in the door, interrupting our oddly intimate moment. "You got her sewed up yet?"

Otis's entire demeanor changed from easygoing to ice cold. "Everywhere except down below."

"Well, git a move on, would ya?" 

"Chill the fuck out, man. I'm gittin' there. Jesus." He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it over his head.

My eyes widened as much as they could with all the swelling._ 'What the fuck?!'_ I thought.

On his way over to the desk, Cutter stopped in his tracks. "What're ya doin', son?" 

"I need her ta lay on the floor fer this part, and I don't want her lyin' on dirty ass fuckin' carpet," Otis cleared up.

With that explanation, I relaxed.

"Oh." Cutter continued to his designation and packed another bag.

"Help me git her on the floor," Otis said. "I gotta take a look so I know what I'm dealin' with."

Cutter sighed but didn't argue. He abandoned his bag and strolled over to us. Otis laid his shirt out and stood up. He was built incredibly well for how lean and lanky he was.

"Be careful with her," he warned, shooting Cutter the look of death.

Cutter's eyebrows furrowed. "Alright, son. Shit." 

Otis and Cutter picked me up under my arms and eased me onto the floor. I laid flat on my back and allowed Otis to open my thighs. Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, he turned it on and clamped it between his teeth.

Having a flashback from the rape, I whimpered. Tears filled my eyes and flowed down my cheeks. Pain seared through my ribs as I sobbed, making me wince. 

"Man..." Otis muttered forlornly around the flashlight.

"Aww, shit, darlin'." Cutter's voice held sympathy. He kneeled and clasped my hand. "It's gonna be alright. Otis ain't gonna hurt ya. He just wants ta take a look."

"Thought ya didn't give a shit?" I blubbered. "Ya sure act like it."

He sighed. "I have a kid, a daughter," he admitted. "I keep thinkin'..."

"Oh." I stared up at Otis through blurry eyes, who was waiting for my permission. "Do it," I said, my voice wavering.

Grunting, Otis widened my thighs with both hands.

"He's gonna have ta touch ya," Cutter cautioned.

"I know. Just git it over with." I closed my eyes. "Please."

Using both hands, Otis gently opened my pussy lips. I squeezed Cutter's hand, who rubbed the back of mine with his thumb.

"It's alright," Cutter soothed.

My pussy was sore as hell, and I gritted my teeth as Otis checked around inside my entrance. "God, that fuckin' hurts."

"Sorry," Otis said around his flashlight. After a minute of checking around, he grazed his fingertip over my asshole, which puckered immediately.

"What the shit?!" I cried.

"I gotta check there fer damage. If yer body responds normally, which it did, then there ain't none," Otis explained. 

He must have taken the flashlight out of his mouth because his voice was as clear as a bell. I wasn't comfortable enough to open my eyes and look at him. He was hot, and I didn't want my body to betray the thoughts I shouldn't be having. 

"Well, that's good," Cutter muttered.

"Yeah. The other good news is the worst tear is second degree. There are numerous first degree tears, but they'll heal on their own. First degree tears don't need stitches. Second degree tears could use 'em, but they can also heal on their own. It's up ta you if ya want me ta stitch ya up."

"No," I refused, my voice wobbling. "Please...just don't touch me anymore."

"I gotta at least clean ya, mama," he said softly. "Don't want ya gittin' infected."

I exhaled. "Yer right. Do it. Cutter, please don't leave me."

"I won't," he promised. "You just try and relax as much as ya possibly can."

Otis shifted away from me for a minute, probably to grab something from the medical kit.

"Is this what it feels like ta pop out a fuckin' kid?" I wondered aloud.

"Maybe," Cutter pondered. "I dunno. I'm not a woman."

"It's prolly similar," Otis replied, kneeling in front of me. "This'll be cold and prolly sting."

"What is it?" Bracing for impact, I clenched my jaw.

"Antiseptic." 

He squirted some onto all my tears and wiped with some gauze. It burned, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. He repeated the process a few times until he was satisfied, then blew warm air over the area. I flinched.

"It's alright," Cutter said in a calm tone. "Otis is just doin' what he's gotta do."

"How the fuck do ya know how ta do all this shit?" I asked for the second time. "You said you and Cutter git in ta wild shit, not you and other females."

I finally opened my eyes to look at Otis. He straightened up from between my thighs, his bottom lip jammed between his teeth. Letting it go, he moistened it with the tip of his tongue.

"You don't wanna know," he said, shaking his head. "I told ya, I ain't a nice man."

"He's right. Ya really don't wanna know," Cutter interjected. "Just let it go."

Huffing, I nodded. It was none of my business, and I had to accept that.

"Where's yer place? You got any sanitary napkins?" Otis wanted to know.

"Three doors down. Yeah, I got some."

"Yer gonna need 'em." Otis's eyes flicked to Cutter. "I'll take her. You clean up the med kit and keep makin' trips to the car. Take that trash next ta the desk too."

Cutter grunted his affirmation. Releasing my hand, he pushed to his feet. Otis crawled over top of me and rested his hands at my sides. Cowering, I trembled. I gawked up at him, unsure of what to do or think.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya, mama. Grab my shoulders. I'm gonna help ya stand," he said softly.

"Oh, okay."

I gripped his shoulders and Otis carefully aided me to my feet. The room spun slightly. Leaning against his heated, shirtless upper body, I closed my eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass. He held me upright by my hips, his warm breath fanning through my hair. Once I was sure I was okay, I opened my eyes.

"Okay?" Otis asked.

"Mmm, hmm."

"How's that nausea?"

"Pretty good right now."

"Okay. Lemme grab those heels real quick. Don't wanna leave those b'hind. Can ya stand on yer own?"

"I think so."

Otis left my side long enough to swipe my heels and his shirt from the floor. Sitting my stilettos on the couch, he jerked his shirt over his head. There was a bloody wet spot on his abdomen from cleaning my pussy. I was sorry he was covered. He was one damn fine specimen to look at. Picking up my heels, he swaggered over to me.

"Let's go," he urged, taking me by my elbow.

He opened the door and peeked out into the hallway. When it was clear, he grasped my wrist and gave it a small tug. Once we were in the hallway, I led him to my apartment. 

Entering with Otis on my heels, I closed the door. He took one look at the dried puddle of blood on the floor and whistled. He sat my heels with some other pairs of shoes I had by the door.

"First thing we need ta do is git ya outta these clothes and in ta somethin' more comfortable," he dictated. "And ya need those feminine napkins. It's gonna be like yer lightly menstratin' fer a few days, maybe a week."

A wave of dizziness hit, and I reached out to him for support. "Otis..."

"I gotcha." 

He gripped my hips and flattened me against him. Teetering, I pressed my hands against his chest. My dizziness became worse, so I embraced him and nestled the good side of my head against his shoulder.

"It'll pass," he said under his breath, rubbing a hand up and down my back.

Nodding, I swallowed down bile as it rose into the back of my throat. "I'm nauseous again."

"You gonna puke?"

"I-I dunno. Just git my clothes off."

Otis unzipped my mini skirt, which instantly dropped to the floor. Fingering the straps to my top, he slipped them down my arms. I lifted my arms and he easily slid it down my body, being careful to not hurt my ribs. I was skinny enough that it glided over my hips and down to the floor.

"Shit, fuck, yer fuckin' beautiful," he breathed.

Even though I was lightheaded and my stomach was cramped, I gazed at him and smiled. Those fiery blue eyes of his darkened with lust.

"Jesus H Christ, don't look at me like that," Otis begged. "This ain't the time fer me ta be havin' bad thoughts and gittin' a hard cock."

I chuckled softly. "I wasn't lookin' at ya like anythin'."

Clenching his jaw, he scrubbed a hand over his face and through his beard. "God fuckin' damn it, just fuckin' ignore me. Ferget I said a fuckin' word. That shit slipped out. Where ya keep yer Goddamn panties?"

"Top right dresser drawer."

Otis guided me over to where I stashed my underwear. Opening the drawer, I picked a pair of granny panties so I could use a pad with them. As we made our way to the bathroom, I snuck a peek at his groin. The man was fully hard and straining against his pants. I was a fucked up mess, and I was still able to arouse someone without making an effort. It made me feel superb even though it shouldn't have.

As I stepped into the bathroom, my stomach rolled. "Oh, shit..."

"Yer turnin' green," Otis said. 

There was no way I could kneel in front of the toilet in time. Gripping the sink, I heaved water into it. Resting a hand on my lower back, he held my hair.

"I'm so dehydrated," I whined. "I wish I would stop hurlin'."

"Eventually, you'll just be nauseous and the pukin' will stop."

"Anytime now would be good." Gagging, I wiped saliva from my mouth. "I'm so exhausted."

"Yer gonna be tired fer a while. Concussions usually last 7 - 10 days."

"Yes, Dr...umm..." I glanced at Otis in the mirror, who grinned.

"Driftwood."

"Yes, Dr. Driftwood." I straightened up. "I'm alright."

"Good. Let's git ya in those panties and git a pad in 'em."

I mock-saluted him. "Yes, sir, Mr. Driftwood, sir." 

Otis's grin widened. "Lemme see those panties. Turn around and lean against the sink."

Handing him my panties, I obeyed. Hunching down, he lifted each of my feet into the legs holes and slipped the panties up my thighs. A package of maxi pads was sitting on the floor next to the sink. Grabbing one, he handed it to me.

"You better do this part," he said. "I ain't a female."

Nodding, I fastened the pad to my underwear. "Better take that package with us."

"Yeah, along with some other shit, like somethin' fer ya ta puke in. Cutter'll fuckin' kill ya if ya throw up in 'is God damn car. You got a robe?"

I pointed at the back of the bathroom door. Otis stood up and yanked the cotton material from the hook. He assisted as I stuck my arms through the holes and loosely tied it in the front.

"Thanks," I said as he smoothed it down.

He tipped his head. "Let's gather some shit yer gonna need fer the road. This trip'll be long. At least, 6 hours."

"Yer willin' ta drive me 6 hours away?"

"Yeah. Why not? Dunno how much o' that conversation ya remember, but Charlie'll be good to ya. He treats 'is whores well. You'll get regular STD tests. He'll never hit ya, rape ya, or rip ya off. I don't like 'im much, but this is the best place fer ya ta go."

"Alright. I trust ya."

Otis chuckled. "You really shouldn't. I ain't a nice man."

I shrugged. "You've been alright ta me so far."

"You helped us, we're helpin' you."

The corner of my mouth turned up into a smirk. "I need ta si'down."

"Sure, mama. C'mon." 

Otis assisted me to my bed. Sinking down, I named off a few things I would need. Grabbing an overnight bag, he stuffed it under my direction. Once we were done with my things, I stuck my feet in a pair of slippers, and we proceeded back down the hallway to Marquis'. Cutter was waiting impatiently, his arms folded over his chest. He had washed off the clown makeup while we were gone.

"Y'all done fuckin' around?" he snapped.

Otis rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up. Yeah, we're done. Are _you_ ready?"

"Yeah. Let's git the fuck outta dodge."

I jutted my chin towards Marquis' body. "What 'bout _him_?"

"Leave 'im," they said in unison. 

"Someone'll find 'is dumbass eventually," Otis added.

"Ya mean 'is dead ass." Cutter snickered.

I rolled a shoulder forward. "Fine by me."

We exited the apartment complex without running into anyone I knew, which I was grateful for. I didn't want to explain anything to anyone. I wouldn't even know how.

Cutter drove an old beater convertible. The top was on. Otis sat my things in the trunk with whatever Cutter had put in, then escorted me into the back seat. He climbed in next to me to keep an eye on me.

"Let's go, Bozo," Otis said, patting Cutter's shoulder. 

I assumed he called him that because of the clown makeup he had on earlier. Cutter turned the ignition, backed out of the parking spot, and stepped on the gas. We were on our way to a place I didn't even know, but I was surprisingly okay with that. After working for Marquis, anything had to be better. I was ready to start over.


	3. Chapter 3

🎶You know the day destroys the night  
Night divides the day  
Tried to run, tried to hide  
Break on through to the other side🎶

The Doors _Break on Through (To the Other Side)_ floated from the speakers. We were no longer in the city. We were coasting on a highway in the middle of nowhere. The country had been green and lush when we first started traveling but had slowly faded into dry desert as time passed.

"Hey, Cutter," Otis called over the radio. 

"Yeah?" He eyed us in the rearview mirror.

"Turn that the fuck down fer a minute."

"Why?"

"Well, fer one, Cherry's head is prolly poundin' out her fuckin' skull. Fer two, I wanna talk to ya 'bout somethin'."

"Yeah, it is," I rasped, rubbing my forehead.

Grumbling, Cutter lowered the volume. "What?!"

"You still got those antibiotics in the glove box?" Otis asked. "You know, the ones from the dentist ya never even touched?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Give 'em ta Cherry. She might need 'em. You don't."

Cutter rolled his eyes and retrieved a pharmacy bottle from the glove box. He passed it over the seat to Otis, who shook the bottle to make sure it was full.

"Can ya take Penicillin?" Otis inquired. "Some people are allergic. Seems a lot o' redheads are."

"I can take it. I don't have any allergies."

"Here." He pressed the bottle into my palm. "Once you can keep food and water down, I wan'cha ta start takin' these. Better safe than sorry."

"Alright, thanks."

Otis grunted.

I read over the label slowly. _Penicillin, 250 mg tablets, Quantity: 30. Take one tablet every 6 hours until gone. _What interested me was the name on the bottle, _Johnny Lee Johns_. The address was some road in Ruggsville County, Texas I had never heard of. Ruggsville was about 3 hours away from Houston in the opposite direction. It was also my hometown, which I found to be kind of odd. 

"Johnny Lee Johns?" I muttered.

"That's my real name," Cutter said. "Don't go 'round repeatin' that, ya hear? Just ferget ya ever saw it, alright?"

"Okay. So Cutter is just a nickname?"

"Yeah, or an alias. Whatever ya choose ta call it. My brother gave it ta me after I stabbed a motherfucker ta death." He snickered. "I've used it ever since."

"The same brother who owns the whore house?" I asked.

"Yeah. Only, he ain't my blood brother. I'm adopted."

"Oh. Kinda like Otis."

Otis snorted. "Nah, I met Cutter on the road stealin' cars. I went by Drifty and Whitey back then."

Cutter chuckled. "No, this was a real adoption. I was an orphan fer a while when I was a kid."

"Oh." I stuffed the medicine bottle into the pocket of my robe. "Johnny Lee Johns? Who the fuck is that? Dunno any Drifty's or Whitey's, either."

"Good girl," Cutter said.

"And we dunno any Cherry's," Otis added.

Cutter hit every bump in the road. My sore pussy and my ribs were killing me. Wincing, I shifted around in the seat. 

"These God damn _roads_," I hissed. "My fuckin' ribcage is screamin' right now. My pussy feels like..." Blowing out a puff of air, I rested my head on the back of the seat. 

Grimacing, Otis grabbed a blue and white flannel shirt out of the back window and bunched it up in his lap. 

"The best thing fer ya ta do is ta lay on yer injured side," he recommended. "Doing that'll restrict movement and give yer ribs support. You'll also be able ta breathe easier on yer uninjured side. Deep breathin' is necessary or ya could develop pneumonia. You don't want that shit; especially with fucked up ribs."

"No, that would fuckin' suck," I agreed. 

"Yes, it would. You can put yer head in my lap. Might be able ta get some good rest that way, too, which is imperative fer the healin' process."

"But if I do that, I'll be layin' on the fucked up side o' my head."

"That's why I got the flannel. It's soft, like gauze or a pillow," Otis explained.

I scanned his lap, which was super inviting. "That shirt yers?"

"Yes." There was that sexy little lisp of his again. Something suddenly seemed to occur to him, as his whole face morphed from calm to concerned. "Cutter, who the fuck is runnin' the God damn museum?? You didn't just leave town without-"

"Yer just now thinkin' 'bout that?" Cutter chuckled. "Chill the fuck out, son. Revelli's got the keys. Stucky's hangin' 'round, too. He'll keep Revelli's ass in check."

"I fuckin' hope so! I got some projects in the back. If they get fucked up-"

"They ain't gonna get fucked up. It's my business. I got everythin' under control. Gloria's got the register. We might not be t'gether no more, but she's the only one I trust ta run it."

"You run a museum? Who's Gloria?" I blurted.

"His baby's mama. My adoptive mama," Otis replied, smirking. "It's a roadside attraction and gas station called _Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Mayhem_. There's even a murder ride."

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh, sounds interesting." 

"Folks just love my fried chicken," Cutter bragged.

I remembered Cutter telling me he had a daughter when Otis was checking between my legs. "Oh, so when Cutter mentioned he had a kid...that's yer sister?"

"Yeah," they said together.

"Her name's Angel Baby. I got two brothers, too," Otis added. "RJ and Tiny."

"I have a family, but they hate me," I said forlornly. "It's why I b'came a whore in the first place. I wanted ta get away from 'em. Prostitution was a quick way ta make money and leave 'em b'hind." Another bump in the road made my yelp and grit my teeth.

"Sorry, darlin'," Cutter mumbled. "They're unavoidable."

Otis rubbed his thigh. "C'mon, mama. Lay down."

Forgetting our conversation, I did so carefully and bent my knees. I was slightly nauseous from the pain in my ribs. We had brought along the small trash can from my bathroom, so I moved it from my side of the vehicle to between Otis's feet.

"Ya alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just in case."

Otis grunted and repositioned his hips. Opening his thighs further made it so my head wasn't so elevated, which was nice. However, his natural bulge pressed against the back of my head. He wasn't hard by any means, but I could tell he was well endowed. I wasn't surprised. Tall, lanky men like him usually had big cocks.

Sighing comfortably, he rested one arm on the door where the ashtray was located. His other arm settled on my side and shoulder. I didn't object when he began to absentmindedly twirl my hair in his fingertips.

The earthy smell of hay and grass invaded my nostrils, along with, dust, manure, and farm animals. There was a hint of grain and the sweet scent of some kind of flower, too. I inhaled deeply, relishing the aroma. Otis was right. Lying on my injured side was definitely the way to go. 

"Yer shirt smells like a barn," I murmured.

Otis laughed softly. "That's cuz I live on a farm. We got horses, cows, shit like that. I take care of 'em most o' the time. Is the smell makin' ya sick?"

"No, it's actually nice," I said honestly.

"Since you wanna question me about _my_ God damn museum, whose takin' care o' the livestock?" Cutter interjected.

"RJ. Who the fuck else?" Otis snapped.

Cutter snickered. He was just trying to get a rise out of Otis. "How ya like it, son?"

"Fuck off, ya old bitch hog."

His comment only made Cutter laugh harder. Otis huffed, his fingertips caressing my scalp. The sensation lulled me into a state of deep relaxation, and I fell asleep. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when Cutter announced he was making a pit stop. I didn't fully awaken until the car shut off.

"Git Cherry some Ginger Ale and crackers. Some bananas and applesauce if they got 'em," Otis said. "She ain't hurled in a while."

"You want somethin'?" Cutter asked.

"Whiskey," he said dryly.

"I'm fuckin' serious, son. You can git fucked up when we git ta Charlie's."

"Mmm..." Otis clicked his tongue. "Just a soda and some chips. Maybe somethin' sweet. You know what I like."

Grunting, Cutter exited the vehicle and slammed the door. I jumped. In an attempt to calm me, Otis smoothed my hair back.

"Relax, mama. Cutter's gotta git some gas and other shit."

"Oh," I croaked. "How long I been out?"

"A couple hours. Did ya know you talk in yer sleep?"

"Been told that b'fore. Did I say anythin' embarrassin'?"

Otis shrugged. "Nothin' I could understand."

I turned my head slightly so I could look at him. Those gorgeous blue eyes of his probed my soul. "Once, I told this guy I was datin' I wanted ta fuck the shit outta 'im while I was asleep."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Yer fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah."

Otis threw his head back and laughed so hard, his whole body shook and tears slipped down his cheeks. His real laugh was warm and hearty, the complete opposite of what I would have expected from him. The sound reminded me of a bird who had realized the sun had risen and was singing to the world. I couldn't help but smile. It was the first time I admitted to myself that I liked him.

_'Oh, man. I like this guy. Why? I'll never be able ta do anythin' about this,'_ I thought. _'He'd never want me like that anyway. I'm just a whore.'_

"Holy hell!" Otis forced out. 

"I didn't remember it, but he sure told me about it when I woke up. That was mortifyin'. I was only like 14 or 15," I said, my smile widening.

"You didn't say no shit like that!" He wiped tears from his cheeks and beard onto his t-shirt. "Mostly garbled nonsense."

"Needless ta say, we fucked."

"Yeah, I bet he did relieve some fuckin' tension!"

I chuckled. "You have no idea. That guy fucked the hell outta me and marked me up in the process. My parents were soooo pissed off."

"I'm sure they were. A girl fuckin' at that age is every decent parent's nightmare." Otis's eyes glittered. "Ya like it rough, huh?" He smirked.

"Sometimes." I rolled my shoulder. "But it ain't like I've fucked fer enjoyment any time recently. I just do what people pay me ta do." 

His amusement vanished, his fingers returning to my hair. "Well, that's a fuckin' shame." 

Nodding, I faced forward and sighed. It really was a bummer. I couldn't even remember the last time I had been kissed. I didn't kiss my clients. That was a huge no-no in my book.

"I'm so lonely," I mumbled without thinking.

"Me, too," Otis said under his breath.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was staring out the window. His blonde hair shrouded his face and his features were twisted with misery. He didn't falter when I gripped his wrist and wrapped his arm around me. Clasping his hand, I gave it a tender kiss.

"Cutter's comin' back," he murmured. 

With his eyes locked on Cutter's approaching figure, he traced my lips with his thumb. It was the only indication he gave that my affection had registered in his brain. Cutter opened the car door and sat a few bags on the seat.

"I'm gittin' hot," I complained.

Grunting, Otis rolled down the window. A breeze blew through the car, cooling me immediately. 

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Cutter, roll down yer fuckin' window," Otis griped. "It's hotter than the pits o' hell in here."

"That's cuz the God damn AC ain't on," he said.

"No fuckin' shit!" Otis snapped. "It's a hundred fuckin' degrees out there!"

Cutter exhaled and rolled down the window. Closing the door, he strolled around to the gas tank and inserted the nozzle into the car. As he pumped gas, he occasionally peeked inside the car. Every time Otis caught him, he sneered and flipped him the bird, which made Cutter chuckle.

I giggled. "You two are somethin' else."

"He's a pain in my fuckin' ass," Otis grumbled.

We were silent for the rest of the time Cutter stood at the gas pump. Once he was finished, he came around to Otis's window. Bending down, he said, "I'm gonna call Charlie, tell 'im we're comin'. He ain't expectin' us fer another week."

Otis nodded. Narrowing his eyes, he watched Cutter mosey over to a payphone. His fingers stayed busy in my hair and on my scalp.

"I'm gonna sit up and give yer lap a break," I declared.

That got Otis's full attention. He drug his eyes away from Cutter and focused on me. "You feel like tryin' ta eat or drink?"

At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled. "Yeah, I'll try. Maybe it'll take the edge off o' this headache."

"Maybe."

Using Otis's thigh for support, I pushed up into a sitting position. He didn't flinch or pull away; he just turned his concentration on Cutter, his hand brushing down my back as I straightened up. His leg was lean yet muscled under my hands. Everything about the man was rock solid, probably from the farm work he had previously mentioned.

Now that Cutter had said Charlie wasn't expecting them for another week, I was aware they visited on occasion; most likely for some kind of illegal business. Maybe I would get to touch Otis in the future. I hoped I would. My eyes flickered to the payphone as Cutter began talking.

"Cut the shit, Charlie. It's me, Cutter. Me and Happy Boy're comin' a bit earlier than planned." Cutter paused while Charlie spoke. "Yeah, I got somethin' for ya. In fact, I got a few things for ya. We'll be there in a couple hours. We're comin' from Dallas, so we'll stay the night. Let yer bitches know we're comin'."

Charlie said something else, then Cutter hung up. Satisfied with the conversation, Otis arched over the front seat to dig around in the bags Cutter had brought from inside. I couldn't help but stare at his ass. It was round and perfectly shaped. The man was sex on a stick.

My curiosity got the better of me and I started asking questions. "Cutter said ta let the bitches know y'all are comin'. Reckon that means y'all are gonna get laid? Do y'all have favorites or somethin'?" 

Snorting, Otis handed me a Ginger Ale and a banana. Grabbing a Coke and a bag of chips for himself, he settled back into the seat. "Fuck yeah, we're gonna get laid. We got extra fuckin' money so t'night'll be an adventure. I got a favorite. Dunno 'bout Cutter. I don't think he really cares so long as he's dippin' 'is cock. Casey might be 'is favorite. He chills with her a lot. Ain't really sure, though."

I cracked open my Ginger Ale. "Who's yer favorite?"

"Her name's Candy. She's young, younger than you are. She's got blonde hair and can hold her liquor better than most men my age. She's a lot o' fun."

Sighing, I sipped my soda. "Hope I don't git sick."

"We'll see. If that don't come up, try eatin' that banana. If that sits okay, take the Penicillin."

I mock-saluted him. "Yes, sir."

Otis grinned. "Smart ass."

I giggled. Cutter opened the door, slid into the seat, and situated what was in the bags. When he had what he wanted for himself, he handed the rest to Otis. "That's fer y'all."

"Thanks," I said.

"Let's just hope you can keep it down," he said, glimpsing at me in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah."

Otis was quiet. He was too involved with his bag of chips to comment. Cutter started the car and drove out onto the main road. The car filled with the sounds of chewing and drinking, the blast of the AC, and whatever song was on the radio. My stomach felt pretty good after drinking most of the Ginger Ale, so I slowly ate the banana and discarded the peel into the bag.

As I waited for time to pass, I gazed out the window. The day was dwindling to dusk, and the sun wasn't so bright on my eyes. Dusty, barren wastelands flew by in a blur, cacti and crumbling rocks dotting the tundra. Tumbleweeds swirled every once in a while, vultures circling their next prey.

"Where are we goin'?" I finally asked.

"A bit north o' Amarillo," Cutter replied. "Out in bum fuck Egypt."

I nodded. "I feel alright. Should I try eatin' somethin' else?"

"No, don't push it. Just take the Penicillin," Otis advised.

"Alright." 

Pulling the bottle from my robe pocket, I opened it and swallowed a pill with my Ginger Ale. Removing the pharmacy label, I tossed it into the bag. Cutter's real name was figuratively forgotten.

"If that stays down, then try the crackers or applesauce."

"Okay." I shoved the bottle into my pocket.

"There's more Ginger Ale in that bag if ya need it."

Nodding, I yawned.

"I'm done. You can lay back down if ya want," Otis invited, rubbing his thigh.

Screwing the cap on my soda, I put it back in the bag and nestled my head into his lap. He relaxed into the seat and immersed his fingers into my hair. The radio station became staticky, so Cutter turned the knob until he found another rock station. _Paint It Black_ by The Rolling Stones came through the speakers loud and clear. 

🎶I see a red door and I want it painted black

No colors anymore I want them to turn black  
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes  
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes

I see a line of cars and they're all painted black  
With flowers and my love both never to come back  
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away  
Like a new born baby it just happens ev'ry day

I look inside myself and see my heart is black  
I see my red door I must have it painted black  
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts  
It's not easy facin' up, when your whole world is black

No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue  
I could not foresee this thing happening to you

If I look hard enough into the settin' sun  
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes

I see a red door and I want it painted black  
No colors anymore I want them to turn black  
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes  
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes🎶

As I slipped from consciousness, Otis's fingertips gently stroked through my hair and up and down my jaw. "Shit's gonna be alright," he promised softly. "I'll make sure of it."

I sighed. If Cutter heard him, he didn't acknowledge it. 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is not what I intended for this chapter, but sometimes my characters do the dictating, and this is what Otis made me write. It's a little shorter than my usual chapters, but there are events in here which are important to a future chapter. I guess what I'm trying to say is Otis knew what the fuck he was doing when he made me write this out XD

\--------------------

"Cherry..." Otis shook my shoulder.

"Hmm...wha'?" 

My eyes fluttered open. It was dark. I had no idea what time it was.

"We stopped ta take a leak. You gotta go? If not, you should prolly check yer pad and stretch a bit."

Drinking all that Ginger Ale earlier had a definite effect. My bladder was full.

"Uhh..." I cleared my throat. "Yeah." 

"Alright, c'mon. Cutter's already inside," Otis said.

Grunting, I sat up slowly. My sanitary napkins were in a bag at my feet. Reaching inside, I retrieved one and stuffed it in my pocket.

"Where's that Ginger Ale?" I croaked. "I'm thirsty."

Otis pulled it out of another bag and handed it to me. While I drank, he hopped out of the car and swaggered over to my side. Opening my door, he extended his hand. I capped the bottle, sat it on the seat, and grasped his hand. He helped me out of the car and kept a watchful eye on me in case I got dizzy, which I did. The world spun, my ears rang, and my vision turned fuzzy.

"Woah..." I muttered. "Otis..."

"I gotcha, mama," he said. Gripping my hips, he flattened me against him. "It'll pass."

Fisting his shirt, I tried to focus on him. His scruffy face rotated like a Ferris wheel with 8 different passenger cars.

"There's so many of you," I murmured. I tried to steady the spinning by touching his cheek, but I missed and my hand submerged into his hair instead. "Oh, shit. That ain't yer face." Giggling, I rubbed his hair between my fingertips. It was knotty yet soft as silk.

"Just keep lookin' at me," Otis said, his tone serious. "Hear my voice?"

"It's muffled." My eyes crossed. Dropping my hand to his shoulder, I clasped it. My knees weakened and my body sagged. "I think I'm melting."

"Shit, fuck!" he growled. "Cherry!" 

Grabbing my ass to hold up my body as I swayed, he caught my jaw. It took every ounce of strength I had to uncross my eyes and concentrate on his mouth. 

"What?"

"Look at me. We're only an hour away from Charlie's." Otis leaned in so close, his breath wafted up my nostrils. He smelled like cola. His tongue snaked over his lips, his intense eyes traveling over my face. "We need ta git inside and git out so you can rest."

"I just remembered I got a fuckin' robe on and look like absolute hell."

He chuckled, his crooked front tooth visible. "Who the fuck cares?"

"Yer right. Fuck it."

And just like that, my dizzy spell ended. My blurred vision returned to normal, and the ringing in my ears dissipated. I blinked a few times to clear my perspective. Otis's lips were only about an inch away from mine. All I had to do was push up on my toes and our mouths would touch.

"Ya alright?" he asked, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I nodded. "I think so."

"Good. Let's go."

I unclenched his shirt and turned around. Otis closed his arm around my waist and took my hand in his free one. He guided me inside the store and up to the slender balding clerk, who was eyeballing him suspiciously.

"You got a bathroom key?" Otis inquired. "My wife's gotta piss. It's been a long ride from the hospital. Her IV fluids are runnin' right through her."

I played along and didn't say anything. The employee reached under the counter and held up a keyring, dangling it. His eyes held judgment, which made my temper bubble over.

"What, ya think my husband did this ta me?" I seethed, snatching the keys from his hand.

Snickering, Otis kissed my temple. "Fuckin' tell 'im, baby."

The attendant's eyes widened. "N-no, I-"

"Bullshit! Don't fuckin' lie! I ain't blind, ya know! I see the way yer lookin' at 'im, and I don't fuckin' appreciate it! Ya know what happens when you assume? Ya make an ass outta you and me."

The employee hung his head. "Yer right. I'm sorry."

Otis laughed quietly. "C'mon, baby. Fuck this asshole. Let's git ya in the bathroom so ya don't piss all over the God damn floor."

Baring my teeth at the ashamed clerk, I let Otis tug me toward the bathroom. "Piece o' fuckin' shit. I can't stand a judgmental motherfucker."

Cutter came out of the men's room just as we walked up on the bathrooms. "She's gotta go? That's a good sign."

"Yeah." Otis glared at the clerk, who was mortified. "That motherfucker thinks I beat my wife. Can ya b'lieve that fuckin' shit?"

Cutter proceeded with the program and rolled his eyes. "Don't pay that asshole no mind. He don't know shit. Let's just do what we gotta do so we can git home."

Otis grunted. Prying the keys from my tightened fist, he unlocked the door. The clerk didn't say a word as he escorted me inside the women's room.

"Fuckin' asshole," I spat.

He smirked, his eyes glittering. "You got quite a temper." 

"Sometimes. I'm much worse when I ain't all concussed and fucked up." 

Chuckling, Otis aided me out of my robe and hung it on the back of the door. Slipping my panties down, he eased me down onto the toilet. As I emptied my bladder, his icy blue eyes darted everywhere but in my direction. I wouldn't have cared if he watched me pee. He had seen my most intimate of places. As urine splashed onto my outer vaginal tears, I clutched my thighs.

"God, that fuckin' burns," I whined.

Knitting his brows, Otis turned and dug in my robe pocket for a pad and handed it over. I switched the one in my panties for the fresh one and glimpsed over the old one. 

"It's really not too bad," I said, tossing it in the trash. There was blood but it wasn't a lot. It was like I had a light period or was at the end of my cycle.

Otis grunted and helped me stand. Wrapping my robe around my body, he tied it. As I turned on the faucet to wash my hands, he unzipped his pants and twisted towards the toilet. He didn't bother to put the seat up. He groaned as he relieved himself, his head rolling back.

"Ya really had ta go, huh?" I inquired.

"Yes," he lisped.

"Ya could o' went first."

"It's fine. I'd rather you pissed first so we could be done with it." 

Shaking excess urine from his cock, he fastened his pants. As I dried my hands, Otis washed his. When he was finished, I passed him some paper towels. He tipped his head. Rubbing his hands dry, he tossed them in the trash.

"You want somethin' while we're here?" he asked.

"No, thanks. I'm good."

"That fuckin' shit stain don't deserve our business anyway."

"Nope."

Otis wrapped his arm around my waist and guided me out of the restroom. Snarling, he chucked the keys at the clerk, who flinched. He escorted me outside and over to the car, where Cutter was sitting in the driver's seat and guzzling a soda. The employee's eyes were burning a hole in my backside.

"Otis?" 

As he grasped the door handle, he gazed at me. Those fiery blue eyes of his delved into my soul. The earth moved under my feet, but not because I was lightheaded. The man made me feel strange inside, warm and fuzzy. 

"I can feel that asshole watchin' us. Kiss me."

Otis snickered and moistened his lips. "Alright. I'm always down fer a lil sugar."

He cupped my jaw and gripped my hip. I rested my hands on his chest. Being careful not to hurt me, he tilted his head to the side and pressed a tender kiss to the uninjured side of my mouth. His lips were soft and damp, and his beard tickled my skin. As he pulled back, he tucked my messy hair behind my ear and grinned. His eyes shined like two diamonds in the moonlight. Releasing a chuckle, I smiled back. My lips tingled where he had touched them with his own.

"Again," I whispered.

"Really?" he questioned, his brows furrowing.

"Yeah. Fuck that asshole."

Otis didn't hesitate. Closing the distance between us, he kissed me in the same spot. This time, he swiped the tip of his tongue over the seam of my lips. My heart fluttered, but I didn't open my mouth to him. As he backed away, his eyes burned with passion.

"Do I gotta pay ya fer that?" he joked. 

"No, it was just fer show. I don't kiss clients anyway."

"I ain't exactly a client," Otis pointed out. "Not yet, anyway."

"I know that. I meant when I'm actually workin' I don't kiss clients, so there would be no such payment fer that kinda thing." I paused, thinking over what he had said. "Wait, did you just say not yet?"

He chuckled. "Yeah."

"So you wanna fuck me?" I clarified.

Otis nodded. "When yer ready, which ain't gonna be fer a while."

"Ooh," I teased, nudging his side. "You nasty fucker."

Laughing softly, he opened the door. "Git in the fuckin' car, smart ass."

Giggling, I edged into the car and carefully scooted over. Cutter unleashed a long, loud burp. I couldn't help but laugh, which hurt my ribs.

"Oh, ya think that's funny, huh?" Cutter let out another burp.

"Yeah. I never understood why folks git so uptight over normal bodily functions." 

"I don't understand why folks git uptight about a lot o' shit."

I rolled a shoulder forward. "Got sticks up their asses, I reckon."

Otis slid in and shut the door, a grin plastered on his face. "How's that fuckin' soda taste, ya old bitch hog?"

Cutter chuckled. "Dee-licious." 

Spying us in the rearview mirror, he obnoxiously licked his lips. Otis shook his head and laughed. I snorted.

"I should be askin' ya how Cherry tastes," Cutter ragged.

"That was fer show," Otis said, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yeah, sure," Cutter said dryly.

"Shut the fuck up, Bozo," Otis grouched.

Cutter snickered.

"No, really. It was fer show. It was my idea. I didn't want that fucker in there thinkin' Otis beat me, so we staged the kisses," I explained. "I thought they were pretty convincin'."

"Relax, darlin'. I'm just fuckin' around. After what happened with Slick, I doubt the last thing ya want right now is ta make out with Happy Boy back there. I just like ta bust 'is balls."

Otis swallowed a chuckle. I didn't reply. I was glad Cutter hadn't heard our conversation before we had entered the vehicle. He would have fucked with Otis pretty hard about that.

Cutter started the car and drove out of the parking lot. Once again, we were headed towards our destination. My stomach grumbled. I was so hungry, it was trying to eat my spine.

"I'm starvin'," I griped.

Grunting, Otis dug around in a bag and produced a small jar of applesauce and a plastic spoon. "Here, eat this." Handing over the spoon, he opened the container before setting it in my palm.

"Thanks." 

"There's more where that came from if ya want it."

Nodding, I spooned applesauce into my mouth. I noticed the absence of sweetness immediately. "This sugar free?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's all they had," Cutter snickered. "It's actually baby food."

I giggled. "Well, shit. It ain't too bad."

"Sugar free is better fer yer stomach right now anyway," Otis claimed. "Too much sweet shit could make ya sick."

"Makes sense," I uttered around my mouthful. I finished the jar quickly.

"You want more?" Otis inquired, discarding of the empty container.

"No, don't wanna push it. I'll take some more o' that Ginger Ale, though."

Nodding, he dropped the spoon into the bag. Pulling my soda out, he unscrewed the cap and transferred it over. "This is almost gone. There's another one."

"Okay." Drinking slowly, I gazed out the window at the starry sky. "Ya know somethin'?"

"What's that?" Otis muttered.

"The cool thing about the desert is how dark the sky is at night. There're no city lights ta muck it up. The Milky Way is gorgeous."

"No argument here," Cutter agreed.

"Yer right about that." Otis released a long sigh.

I turned my head to look at him. His hand was scrubbing through his beard, his eyes fixated on our galaxy above.

"Otis?"

He twisted towards me, his eyebrow arched. Holding up my empty soda bottle, I shook it. Taking it, he screwed the cap on and put it in the bag. I eyed his lap longingly.

"Can I lay down?" I inquired softly.

"Yeah." He shifted around in the seat and bunched his flannel between his thighs. "Yeah, c'mon." 

Nestling my head into Otis's flannel, I released a blissful breath. I didn't even know him, but he made me feel content. I had never experienced that with a man before. It was refreshing.

Smoothing my hair back, he caressed my scalp. Occasionally, he traced my ear with his thumb and stroked my jaw. His touch was comforting, especially after being raped.

"We'll be at Charlie's soon," Otis murmured, his eyes never leaving the star-jammed sky. "Won't be long now. Just relax, mama."

Cutter turned up the radio slightly, which was playing _The Wind Cries Mary_ by Jimi Hendrix. I found that to be ironic since my real name was Mary, but I didn't offer the information. I was too tired to speak. I drifted off to the melodic sound of Jimi's voice and Otis's consoling fingertips.

🎶After all jacks are in their boxes

And the clowns have all gone to bed  
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street  
Footprints dressed in red

And the wind whispers Mary

A broom is drearily sweeping  
Up the broken pieces of yesterday's life  
Somewhere a queen is weeping  
Somewhere a king has no wife

And the wind, it cries Mary

The traffic lights they turn a blue tomorrow  
And shine their emptiness down on my bed  
The tiny island sags downstream  
'Cause the life that they lived is dead

And the wind screams Mary

Will the wind ever remember?  
The names it has blown in the past  
And with its crutch, its old age and its wisdom  
It whispers "no, this will be the last"

And the wind cries Mary🎶


	5. Chapter 5

Huge dips in the road jostled me from my short nap. "The hell?" I croaked, my ribs screaming.

Otis gently patted my shoulder. "We're on a dirt road. Just sit tight. We're comin' up on Charlie's gate."

"His gate?" I echoed.

"Yeah. The whorehouse is a fenced-in community out in the middle o' the desert," Cutter said. "It's private property. Nobody gits in or leaves without Charlie's permission."

"Oh." I eased into a sitting position just as the car rolled to a stop. 

A neon sign hovered over top of the car. The words _Charlie's Frontier Fun Town _blinked erratically as if we were at the entrance to some kind of weird, trippy Las Vegas carnival. My thoughts shifted back to when I had seen Cutter for the first time and he had been made up like a clown. I wondered if the makeup was somehow related to the _Fun House_. 

As a chunky black man in a flannel shirt with cut off sleeves, a rifle, and a walkie talkie approached the car, Cutter rolled down his window. "Hmph. Never seen this asshole b'fore," he said over his shoulder.

"Me either. Must be new," Otis muttered.

"Who the fuck are you?" the man demanded to know.

"Tell Charlie Cutter and Happy Boy're here," Cutter said firmly.

The man clicked his walkie talkie. "Bubba, over."

The hand-held radio crackled. "What?!" Whoever was on the other end was irritated to hell and back.

"You got visitors named Cutter and Happy Boy. They got someone with 'em. It's a young girl. She's beat up pretty bad, boss."

"My no good brother didn't say shit about no busted up girl. Ask 'im where the sun don't shine."

_'So the guy on the radio is Charlie. Makes sense since Cutter said no one comes or goes without 'is permission,'_ I thought.

Bubba held the walkie talkie up to Cutter's mouth, who sneered and rolled his eyes. "In sweet Molly Magnolia McGee's big, fat, juicy, marshmalla covered ass!" he snarked.

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, that's him. Who's the girl?"

Otis leaned forward over Cutter's left shoulder. "She's with us. She's alright."

"Let 'em in," Charlie responded.

Bubba backed away from the car, mosied over to the locked wooden gate, and opened it. Cutter drove inside the community, glancing in the rearview mirror as the gate clicked shut behind us. More brightly lit buildings passed by, some of them apartments. People who worked within the walls probably lived in them. A neon sign with a girl touching herself breezed by. More advertisements, which read _XXX_, _Adult_, and _Topless_, all whizzed by on our way to what looked like the main building.

Cutter backed up next to the main building and parked. Shutting off the car, he huffed. "Finally. I'm tired o' fuckin' drivin'. Yer drivin' home."

"Whatever, ya old bitch hog," Otis said nonchalantly.

All the flashing lights made my head pound. Closing my eyes, I rubbed my forehead and moaned.

Otis touched my arm. "Let's git ya inside and away from all this brightness."

Sighing, I nodded. They hopped out of the car and Otis swaggered around to my side. Opening the door, he extended his hand. Clasping it, I shielded my eyes with my free hand. He helped me out of the car, keeping a tight grip on my hips as I straightened up.

A wave of dizziness hit me and I rested my hands on Otis's lean chest. The spell wasn't as bad as the one I had when we had stopped to pee and passed rather quickly.

"I'm alright," I said, staring up into his icy blue eyes.

Footsteps creaked on wood, grating my eardrums, but I didn't rip my eyes away from Otis, who gazed back like he was fixated on my soul.

"Hey, man. The fuck's goin' on? Why y'all so fuckin' early? You ain't due fer another God damn week." 

The curious voice belonged to Charlie. He wasn't annoyed like he had been on the walkie talkie. Otis's greeting consisted of a grunt and a tip of his head, but his eyes darted right back to mine.

"We got our reasons," Cutter said. The trunk squeaked as he opened it to grab a few bags. 

"Who's the girl?" Charlie asked. "Happy Boy got 'imself a woman?"

That got Otis's attention. He tore his eyes from mine, his eyebrows scrunching together. "No! Fuck you, man! I don't got time fer a fuckin' woman!"

Charlie snickered. "Fuck you, too, ya fuckin' asshole."

Baring his teeth, Otis flipped him off.

"Let's go inside and we'll talk," Cutter suggested.

"Alright," Charlie agreed. As I turned to face him, his eyes widened. "Damn, baby! What the fuck happened ta you??" 

He seemed genuinely concerned, which surprised me. The man didn't even know who I was or why I was there. He wore a black derby hat, a snazzy violet and silver silk shirt, and a pair of navy blue slacks. A cigar was clamped between his teeth. The top buttons on his shirt were undone, a thin gold chain with a spoon charm visible against his dark skin, and he had on suspenders. He had a thick build, but he wasn't overweight, and he carried a simple black cane with a silver tip. He exuded confidence and his dark brown eyes held wisdom. I didn't receive any bad vibes from him at all, unlike all my past pimps. 

"Umm, my name's Cherry. I, uhh..." I didn't know what else to say, so I shut my mouth.

"Like Cutter said, let's go the fuck inside," Otis insisted. "We'll explain everything then."

Nodding, Charlie turned on his heel. We followed him around to the front of the building, up the steps, and through the swinging doors. The place reminded me of an old-timey saloon. In fact, the entire property consisted of buildings plucked out of the Old West. Otis grasped my elbow the entire way in case I stumbled or became lightheaded. 

Once we were inside, Charlie led us into a private room, which I assumed was the main office. It contained a marble desk, a couple of chairs, and a leather love seat. Cutter set the bags on the desk and plopped down in one of the chairs. Otis guided me to the small sofa, eased me down on to it, and sat next to me. 

Charlie settled into a padded chair and laced his fingers on top of his desk. Eyeing Cutter and Otis suspiciously, he said, "Start talkin', y'all. What's with the God damn girl?"

"We went ta Slick's ta collect what he owed us. We found 'im on top o' her rapin' the shit outta her. He had beat the holy guacamole outta her, too. I shot 'im," Cutter informed, shrugging.

"So Slick's dead?" Charlie clarified, raising an eyebrow.

Cutter snickered. "Deader than a fuckin' doornail. We cleaned 'im out. Got way more than what we bargained for, and all cuz o' Cherry." He jacked his thumb in my direction. "She was one o' Slick's bitches. Otis sewed her back together. We brought her here fer you."

"Y'all brought me a busted whore?!" Charlie exclaimed, his tone incredulous.

Cutter groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. "Look, man-"

"Listen, ya motherfuckin' nutsack!" Otis roared, scrambling to his feet. "She ain't just some busted fuckin' whore! She's got strength and potential! She's a fuckin' knockout! She just needs time ta heal! She can make you a lot o' fuckin' money!"

Charlie scoffed. "Oh, c'mon, Happy Boy! I ain't stupid! There has ta be another reason why ya brought her here. You don't give a fuck about anyone but the Firefly's, and even that's questionable sometimes. Why do ya give a fuck about her? Why didn't y'all just leave her there ta die? That's what y'all would o' done with anyone else."

Otis jabbed his index finger in my direction. "She helped us, we're helpin' her!"

"He's right," Cutter interjected. "She's the one who told us where Slick's safes were and where ta find the keys. She even showed me which keys went ta which safe."

"What if she opens her fuckin' mouth about what y'all did ta Slick?" Charlie pointed out.

"She won't. I trust her," Otis stated.

"They saved my life," I said softly. "I can never repay 'em fer that. I would never open my mouth. Slick got what he deserved. He had it comin'."

"Trust her?" Charlie snorted, his eyes floating between me and Otis. "You don't even fuckin' know her."

"Don't gotta. I know what I know, and I know she can be trusted," Otis claimed.

"She's cool," Cutter said calmly. "She could o' ran when we made pit stops on our way here. She could o' told anyone any fuckin' thing at any God damn time, but she didn't. She's been glued ta Otis's hip since we found her. In fact, she defended 'im when some asshole clerk thought he was the one who did that shit ta her."

How Cutter found out I had done that, I wasn't sure. Otis must have told him while I was asleep.

"Hmph. Well, I got enough bitches. I don't need no more," Charlie refused.

"Look, ya fuckin' nutsack!" Otis snarled.

Marching over to the desk, he banged his fists on it and bent down. They glared at each other through narrowed eyes, but Charlie didn't budge. Unzipping one of the bags, Otis slammed multiple baggies of coke, a few piles of cash, and some gold jewelry down on the desk. 

Charlie's eyes grew to the size of saucers and his jaw dropped open. "Woah!"

"You fuckin' want in on this, motherfucker?!" Otis shouted. "Yer gonna fuckin' take Cherry in! That's the God damn deal! Take it or fuckin' leave it!"

"What if I say no?" Charlie inquired, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You ain't fuckin' stupid enough ta say no," Otis growled. "You want in on this fuckin' shit. I know ya do, and Cherry has fuckin' experience. She just needs time."

Cutter chuckled. "I gotta agree with Happy Boy on this one. You'd be fuckin' stupid ta say no. I know ya won't. Yer just fuckin' with us."

Charlie scratched through his salt and pepper beard, his eyes flicking between the three of us as he tapped on his desk with the head of his cane. Smoke billowed from his mouth from the cigar he had clenched between his teeth. After what felt like years, he nodded and sat his cigar in an ashtray. 

"Alright. Business is business, baby. I don't got no redheads. Cherry would be a good addition," he decided.

"That's what I thought you'd fuckin' say," Cutter spat.

Otis grunted, his nostrils flaring. Satisfied, he returned to the sofa and sank down next to me. He was much closer than I expected, and he stretched his arm across the couch behind me. I wasn't sure if it was an invitation to get close until I glanced at him. His fiery eyes flickered from my face, down his front side, and landed on his lap. I took his motion as a sign to snuggle into his side. As I clinched the opportunity, he closed his arm around me protectively.

"Clevon!" Charlie yelled.

"Yeah, boss?"

"C'mere!"

A tall, bald, wiry white man in denim overalls walked in, his beady eyes scanning me quickly. He resembled a maintenance man and had a rifle in his hand. "Yes, sir?"

"Git a bedroom ready," Charlie instructed. "We got us a new bitch." 

"Okay, boss." Clevon ducked out of the room.

"Thank you," I said in a small voice.

"Yeah, yeah," Charlie breathed, waving his hand dismissively.

"Yer gonna have ta take care o' her fer a bit," Otis relayed. "She's got a concussion and some broken ribs. Eventually, you'll have ta remove her stitches."

"I got fuckin' eyeballs, man," Charlie snapped.

Otis ignored his attitude. "She ain't gonna be able ta work 'til her pussy heals. She's got tears from the rape. Ain't nothin' too bad, but she can't fuck 'til they heal. She's got antibiotics so she won't get an infection."

Charlie humphed and gestured to my bruised throat. "Slick choke her, too?" 

Cutter nodded. "She was pretty much dead when I shot 'im. Happy Boy ain't exaggeratin' when he said she's strong. He had ta reset her God damn nose."

Charlie winced. "Ooh, I know that hurt like a motherfucker."

"I passed out," I mumbled.

"I bet ya did!"

"I could see her fuckin' skull when I sewed her back t'gether. The girl's been through pure hell," Otis stated. "You'll treat her much better than Slick ever did."

"Yeah. I don't play that beat-and-rape-my-bitches shit," Charlie grumbled. "I don't rip 'em off, either. I take care o' my bitches. If I take care of 'em, they take care o' me."

Nodding, I let out a sigh of relief.

"Right," Cutter said.

"That's exactly why we brought her here." Otis slid his hand up and down my upper arm. "The girl deserves better than the shovel o' shit she's been dealt. Cutter, pull out that cash I told ya ta set aside."

"Oh, yeah." Cutter yanked some cash from his pocket and passed it to Charlie. "That's fer Cherry. She didn't bring a lot o' shit; just basic necessities. That should cover whatever else she needs." 

Charlie raised an eyebrow as he counted what was in his hand. "Yeah, this'll do it." Opening a desk drawer, he put the money inside and addressed me. "I'll hold on ta this, baby. You need somethin', ya tell me and we'll go out and git it. But not 'til yer healthy enough."

"Okay," I agreed.

"You don't need ta call me daddy or sir. Boss'll do just fine. Although, Clevon calls me sir on 'is own accord," he disclosed. "I hate when assholes make their bitches call 'em daddy. Can't git real respect that way."

A tiny smile curved my lips. "Okay, boss."

Charlie grinned back, his eyes holding kindness.

"Umm, what should I do 'bout food?" I asked. "I don't wanna take Penicillin on an empty stomach."

"I'll have Clevon git ya a lil somethin' once he's done with yer room," he promised.

"Thanks, boss. Uhh, where's the bathroom?" My need to urinate was increasing by the minute.

"I'll take ya," Otis offered. "Charlie, make sure whatever Clevon gits her is easy on the stomach."

Charlie rolled his eyes. "I know how concussions work, motherfucker." 

Otis exhaled heavily but kept his mouth shut. Charlie and Cutter were quiet while he assisted me off of the couch and out of the room to a sparkling clean half bath.

"Ya alright ta go on yer own?" he inquired.

"I think so. I'll call if I need ya."

Otis grunted. After I entered and switched on the light, he closed the door. Sliding my underwear down, I sat on the toilet and relieved my full bladder. Like last time, my vaginal tears burned when urine splashed them. There wasn't a lot of blood in my pad. It didn't need to be changed yet.

Blotting my pussy dry, I fixed my panties, stood slowly and flushed the toilet. My next step was to wash my hands. Otis opened the door and entered just as I turned off the faucet and unzipped his pants. I didn't say anything. We had pissed in front of each other earlier. 

I dried my hands and left just as he released a stream of urine into the toilet. Closing the door behind me, I settled onto a chair and waited. I didn't want to walk on my own in case I got dizzy.

"I think Otis might be sweet on her," Cutter was saying in a hushed tone. "He's babied that God damn girl since we fuckin' found her, which is completely outta character fer 'im. Like ya said, he don't give a fuck about no one but us, and sometimes that's questionable. I think he really wanted ta bring her here so he can tap that ass whenever he wants once she heals."

"I figured as much, but I knew he would never admit that; especially in front o' her," Charlie replied.

"Keep that fuckin' shit b'tween us. He'd fuckin' kill me if he knew I told ya some shit like that."

Charlie chuckled. "You got it, brother. She's been hangin' on Happy Boy, too. I noticed they can talk ta each other with their eyes. That's rare. Actually, that's some fucked up soulmate shit."

"Yeah, I noticed that, too. They been that way since we found her. I think he makes her feel safe. She's been abused and raped. If anyone knows what that's like, it's him. I think he feels sympathy fer the girl, which is a God damn miracle. That motherfucker don't feel sorry fer no one."

_'What the hell's that mean? Has Otis been abused and raped?'_ I thought.

Charlie grunted his agreement.

"I'll tell ya what," Cutter continued. "I ain't never gonna fuck that girl. I'd be steppin' on Happy Boy's toes if I did that. That would be like if he fucked Gloria, which he would never do cuz that's 'is mama, but still. You know what I'm sayin'."

"Yeah."

I was already aware Otis wanted to fuck me because he had said as much. Whether he was sweet on me remained to be seen. I wasn't sure if he felt lust or something more, but I definitely liked him. He was sexy as fuck and treated me decently. I trusted him even though he had warned me I shouldn't. Charlie could take back that soulmate shit, though. Otis and I had a connection, nothing more.

I could tell Otis was harboring some sort of dark secret; so were Cutter and Charlie, but that was none of my business. I was just grateful to be alive and to finally have a boss who wouldn't treat me like absolute dog shit. I only had a new job because of Otis and Cutter's connections. If it weren't for them, I would be unemployed.

I glimpsed at Otis as he emerged from the bathroom, who tossed me an inquiring look. I rolled a shoulder forward. "Didn't wanna walk on my own."

He nodded. "Prolly a good idea."

I grasped his outstretched hand and stood on shaky legs. "I'm so weak," I groaned.

"Easy, mama," Otis cautioned softly as I teetered. Grimacing, he placed his free hand on my hip. "Clevon better hurry the fuck up. We need ta git some food and meds into ya and git ya in ta bed."

Hooking my fingers into the hem of his pants, I brushed his soft skin. "Y'all are stayin' the night, right?"

He shivered slightly, his icy blue eyes probing my soul. "Yeah, ain't goin' nowhere."

"Will ya check on me? I dunno Charlie like that and Clevon makes me nervous."

"Clevon ain't nothin' but a giant skinny teddy bear. He wouldn't hurt a God damn fly. Not unless someone threatened Charlie or one o' y'all. Then, he'd shoot a motherfucker in the face. He's Charlie's lil bitch boy and guard dog," Otis stated. "I understand ya bein' a lil skittish, though. It's normal after what happened. I'll check on ya."

"Thanks," I muttered.

Otis tipped his head. "C'mon. Let's git ya back in there with the two asshole brothers. I gotta git yer stuff outta the car. Cutter didn't touch yer shit, lazy fucker."

"Okay."

I took his arm and he guided me back into the room where Charlie and Cutter were bullshitting. They were laughing obnoxiously and snorting coke. Charlie used the spoon on his gold chain to shove the powder up his nose, and Cutter used a rolled up bill. Clevon leaned against the wall, observing silently.

"Room's ready, baby," Charlie announced. "Clevon can show ya after ya eat."

I shot Otis a nervous look and shook my head.

"I'm goin' up with her," he said, taking me to the love seat. "Lemme git her bags from the car."

"Trunk's still open," Cutter said. "Don't fergit my fuckin' keys."

"Alright." Otis disappeared from the room.

"Clevon, git this girl somethin' ta eat, somethin' easy on her stomach. She's got a concussion."

"How's chicken noodle soup and crackers sound?" Clevon asked.

"That's good," I said shyly.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, exiting the room.

"Thank you," I called, shifting around on the couch. 

"No problem," Clevon replied.

I clasped my hands in my lap and waited patiently.

"So where's our bitches?" Cutter wanted to know. 

"Finishin' up their dates," Charlie answered. "They'll be along."

Continuing to laugh obnoxiously, they reminisced about old times and their childhoods. Otis returned a few minutes later with my bags and the trash can we had brought in case I had to hurl. Tossing the car keys to Cutter, he sat next to me.

"Where the fuck's Clevon?" he grouched.

"Chill, man. He went ta make Cherry some soup," Charlie explained.

"Oh. This paper bag right here has some applesauce, crackers, and Ginger Ale in it. It's Cherry's stuff from the road," Otis said.

"I'll have Clevon take care of it when he comes back." Charlie pulled something out of his bottom desk drawer. "Here, got somethin' for ya." He held up a full bottle of whiskey. "Cutter said ya wanted ta git drunk."

Otis smirked. "When _don't_ I wanna git fucked up?" 

Charlie snickered and slid it across the desk. Otis caught the bottle and opened it. Guzzling some down, he sighed blissfully. 

"I love that fuckin' burn," he breathed.

"Might be the only thing ya love," Cutter said dryly.

Otis humphed.

"Reckon ya don't do coke?" I asked. "Ain't seen ya touch the shit."

"Nah." Otis shook his head. "That shit ain't fer me. Ain't my kinda buzz."

"Umm, after I eat and take my Penicillin, would ya be willin' ta put some o' that shit under my tongue?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Nose hurtin'?"

"Throbbin' like a fuckin' bitch," I grumped.

"Yeah, I can do that."

Clevon strolled into the room with a tray. A bowl of steamy soup, some saltines, and a can of Ginger Ale called my name. "Here ya go, sweetheart."

My stomach grumbled as he set the tray on the desk. "Thank you." 

Otis glanced at my gut and chuckled.

"Clevon, take that paper bag and put it in the kitchen," Charlie ordered. "Those things b'long ta Cherry."

"Okay, boss."

"Come back and wait once ya do that."

"Yes, sir." 

Clevon picked up the bag and departed from the room. I carefully switched from the love seat to one of the chairs and began to eat. The soup wasn't too hot. It was the perfect temperature. Dipping a cracker in chicken broth, I let it melt in my mouth.

Otis hopped up and stood behind me. Normally, anyone looking over my shoulder would have made my stomach knot up, but his presence comforted me; especially when he gently massaged my shoulders. His touch was delightful yet burned at the same time. If his physical contact felt this good now, I could only imagine what he would feel like when I was ready to work. I couldn't wait to heal so I could fuck him.

While I ate, Otis, Cutter, and Charlie joked around with each other. The two brothers continued to snort coke, and Otis gulped whiskey like it was going out of style. I managed to finish all my food and drink my Ginger Ale without getting nauseous. Popping a pill in my mouth, I swallowed it down with the last bit of my soda.

"I'll take that," Clevon said. 

He stepped up beside us, lifted the tray, and took it away. I wasn't even aware he was in the room. Otis continued to knead my shoulders until Clevon returned.

"Show us her room," Otis demanded.

Nodding, Clevon grabbed my bags. 

"Cherry, baby, you come find me when ya wake up," Charlie said. "We got business ta handle."

"Okay, boss."

Leading us out of the room, Clevon bounced up some steps and down a long hallway. Otis and I trailed behind slowly. As we caught up with Clevon, he opened a door and flipped on the light.

"Welcome to the _Fun House_, Cherry. The boss'll take real good care o' ya," he assured, setting my bags down to the right of the door.

I smiled sweetly. "Thank you."

"I got it from here," Otis said.

Nodding, Clevon closed the door behind him. I took a quick look around the room. It was a large bedroom with dark blue walls. There was a double-sized bed with fresh sheets and blankets, a nightstand, a closet, a dresser, and a vanity. I even had my own bathroom. A window faced the back of the community, so there were no bright lights to hurt my head.

"Oh, my God. I think this is the nicest room I ever had," I marveled.

"I told ya Charlie would treat ya good," Otis reminded me.

"Ya did." Taking my pills out of my robe pocket, I sat them on the dresser. "I should prolly change my pad."

"Yeah. Want me ta git a shirt out fer ya ta sleep in?"

"No, I prefer ta sleep naked."

"Okay." Otis pulled a fresh pad from one of my bags and handed it over. "I'll wait here. Just yell if ya need me."

Smiling, I made my way into the bathroom to do my business. A few minutes later, I emerged to find Otis lounging on the bed, the whiskey bottle clutched to his chest. 

"How's the bed feel?" I asked, giggling.

"Better than the one I got back home," he slurred. "I'm tempted ta stay in it."

"You'll miss out on gittin' laid if ya do that."

Otis snickered. "Yeah, that's the only fuckin' downfall." He hopped up. "C'mon. Git yer ass in ta bed." 

On my way over to him, I stripped out of my robe and tossed it over the back of the vanity chair. He bit his lip, his eyes hungrily traveling over my naked form. He didn't say a word as I kicked off my slippers and climbed into my new bed, but he was thinking _'bad thoughts'_, as he had put it in my old place in Dallas. His blue eyes gleamed as he covered me up. Perching on the edge of the bed, he sat the whiskey on my nightstand and brushed my hair back on the good side of my head.

"Open yer mouth," Otis said softly, pulling a bag of coke out of his pocket.

I obeyed. As I lifted my tongue, he sprinkled a decent amount of coke under it.

"Bleh! That tastes awful!" I griped, sticking out my tongue. 

Otis laughed, his eyes crinkling. "It does but it helps."

The powder tasted like baking soda and rubbing alcohol. However, my face began to numb immediately. Soon, I no longer tasted the coke. 

"Thanks. I feel better," I said.

"Good. Git some rest. I'll be in ta check on ya in a few hours."

"Okay."

Otis kissed my forehead and the corner of my mouth, his long hair and beard tickling my skin. "Night, Cherry," he whispered. As he pulled back, his eyes glimmered.

"Night, Otis."

Swiping his whiskey from the nightstand, he stood and staggered to the door. Turning off the light, he left the room and closed the door. I was sorry to see him go. I wished he had decided to stay in my bed. Carefully rolling onto my injured side, I instantly fell into a deep slumber. 

Several hours later, a dip in the bed yanked me from dreamland. I cracked an eye open to find Otis staring down at me in the dark. He smelled like cheap perfume, whiskey, and sex.

"Hi," I croaked.

"Hey, mama. Just checkin' on ya," he said under his breath, stroking my cheek.

I cleared my throat. "Just wanted ta make sure I don't die in my sleep."

Otis huffed out a laugh and tucked my hair behind my ear. "You ain't gonna die, baby."

"No?"

He shook his head. "Yer way too fuckin' strong. Yer a fighter. B'sides, ya can't, Ya need ta be here fer when I visit in the future."

"Are ya flirtin' with me?" I teased, smiling.

Otis smirked, his eyes shining. "Abso-fuckin-lutely."

My smile widened as he leaned down and kissed my temple. "Yer drunk. Ya also got laid. I can smell sex on ya."

"Yes," he lisped. "Ta both things." He nuzzled my jaw with his scruffy face and sighed. "Go back ta sleep. I'll see ya when ya wake up."

Grunting, I closed my eyes. Otis pushed to his feet and departed from the room without saying another word. Surrounded by his intoxicating natural pheromones, I passed out immediately.


	6. Chapter 6

A familiar male voice wrestled me from my slumber. "Cherry...hey, wake up."

"What?" I mumbled in a groggy tone.

As my eyes fluttered open, I shielded them from daylight. From the amount of brightness in the room, I estimated the time was around noon. Cheap perfume and sex drifted up my nostrils, just like when Otis had checked on me in the middle of the night; the only difference was the absence of whiskey and the addition of the rich aroma of coffee.

"Otis?"

"Yeah, it's me." 

He tucked my messy hair behind my ear, his rough fingertips tracing the shape. I blinked to clear my blurry vision and his lean form came into view. He was perched on the edge of the bed, leaning over me with his hand next to my pillow. Those fierce blue eyes of his studied my face, trailing down to my mouth.

Rolling on my back, I winced. "What's goin' on? Everythin' alright?" 

"Yeah, shit's fine," Otis assured. "There's food downstairs. I wanted ta make sure ya got some while it was hot so you can take yer Penicillin." His lips pressed into a thin line. "Me and Cutter gotta leave soon. I didn't wanna go without sayin' goodbye."

Grunting, I tried to push up on my elbows. Sharp pain seared through my ribs. Gritting my teeth, I laid back down.

"I gotcha, mama," he said softly. 

Gripping my underarms, he carefully lifted me to a sitting position. I clenched his shoulders as a small dizzy spell overcame me. Once my lightheadedness cleared, I hugged his waist and tucked my chin into the crook of his neck. Closing his arms around me, he sighed heavily.

"Just in case yer gone b'fore I git downstairs," I murmured, his long hair tickling my face. 

Otis smelled like another woman. The knowledge of that chewed at my heart, but he wasn't mine. I had no right to feel jealousy over a man who didn't belong to me.

"I ain't lettin' ya walk down those fuckin' steps alone," he stated stubbornly. "No fuckin' way."

I grunted. Rubbing his scruffy jaw against mine, he trailed his fingertips up and down my bare spine. I tried to hide the shiver my body produced but was unsuccessful. Thankfully, my front side was covered by bed garments. My nipples were hard and sensitive. If they had grazed him in any way, I probably would have moaned. 

I wanted to stay in Otis's cozy embrace for the rest of my life, but I knew I had to let go. Backing up enough so I wouldn't breathe morning breath all over him, I probed his icy blue eyes with my own. "I need ta put some clothes on."

"I'll git ya somethin'," he offered. 

"Thanks."

Tipping his head, Otis stood up and moved over to my bags. Kneeling down, he dug around until he found a silky crimson spaghetti top and matching loose-fitting booty shorts. It was one of my favorite outfits. Grabbing a fresh pad, he climbed to his feet. 

"Is everythin' you own red?" he inquired, smirking.

"A lot of it is. It goes with my name."

"I'd like ta see ya in black."

I grinned. "I'll keep that in mind."

Otis mosied over to me, sat the items on my nightstand, and extended his hand. "Let's git ya in the bathroom." 

Tossing the covers aside, I hung my feet over the side of the med and grasped his hand. He pulled me up, then gently slipped the tank top over my head. I pushed my hands through the shoulder straps and the thin material fell into place. My hard nipples poked through the fabric, which did not go unnoticed by Otis. 

He bit his lip and exhaled through his nose, his nostrils flaring. "You have no idea how fuckin' hard it is fer me ta _not_ attack you," he husked.

"I'm the one who's been raped, and I'm havin' a bit of a hard time myself," I admitted.

"Shit, fuck! Don't tell me shit like that!" Otis growled. Clenching his jaw, he scrubbed a hand over his face and through his beard. "This is fuckin' hard enough already! It's takin' every God damn ounce o' strength I got ta keep myself from throwin' ya down on the fuckin' bed and havin' my way with you!"

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. Reaching for his belt loop, I hooked my finger through it. "I ain't tryin'-"

"Don't git me wrong. It's hot as fuck that ya want me, but..." Working his jaw back and forth, he clasped my elbow. "C'mon."

Picking up my shorts and pad, he guided me into the bathroom and placed them on the sink. Sliding my panties down, he eased me down onto the toilet. "God damn it, ya even got red pussy hair," he groaned. Crouching, he squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin to his chest.

I cupped his bushy chin and lifted his face to mine. He opened his eyes to look at me. The frustration he felt was obvious. His features were tense, but he relaxed as I plucked hair from his beard and pushed it over his shoulder.

"Of course I got red pussy hair," I said. "Ya didn't notice that when ya checked b'tween my thighs fer damage or when we pissed in front o' each other on the way here?"

"Yeah." He nodded firmly, his eyebrows scrunching together. "Yeah, I fuckin' noticed, but I wasn't payin' that much attention. At those times, I was focused on more important shit, like yer tears and gittin' ya back in the car."

I grunted. While I urinated and changed my pad, Otis picked up my feet one by one and slid my shorts up my legs and over my knees. Blotting my pussy dry, I gripped his shoulders. He aided me while I stood and pulled up my panties and shorts. Moving to the sink, I washed my hands.

"Uhh, did ya happen ta see my toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash in those bags?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah." Leaving the bathroom, he returned with the items shortly and deposited them onto the sink.

"Thanks. My mouth tastes like cat shit," I complained.

Otis laughed softly and waited patiently while I cleaned my mouth. It was a little sore on the one side where my teeth were loosened, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. Reaching for a hand towel once I had rinsed, I dried my hands and lips. 

As I turned to Otis, he clutched my hips and pressed a surprise kiss to the corner of my mouth. His lips were damp, and sweetened coffee lingered as he backed away just enough to gaze at me. I licked it from my lips, savoring his taste.

"Cheater," I whispered. Swiping his hair over his shoulder, I rested my hand on his chest.

"If yer nose wasn't all fucked up, I'd shove my God damn tongue in yer mouth and kiss ya the way I been wantin' to since I first saw ya," he said bluntly.

Humming lowly, I rubbed my thumb over his lips. The dominant glint in his eyes darkened, his pupils widening. Gently mashing my ass against the sink, his stiff groin poked my belly. I swallowed a whimper as the tip of his tongue teased my thumb and he tenderly sucked it between his lips. My clit pulsed, my pussy clenched, and natural lubrication oozed into my pad.

_'Well, at least my pussy still functions properly.'_ I started to put myself down for feeling any sexual attraction at all, but then I corrected my guilty thoughts. _'Git real. This is Otis. I've been attracted to 'im since I first saw 'im. I like 'im. This is normal. If he was anyone else, I wouldn't be feelin' like this.'_

A light nip from Otis's teeth brought me out of my head.

"Remember what I told ya? I don't kiss clients," I said under my breath.

Arching an eyebrow, he released my thumb from his mouth. "I ain't a client, mama. Not yet."

Smiling, I dropped my hand to the hem of his pants and changed the subject. "So when can I take a shower and warsh my hair?"

"Uhh..." 

Otis studied the stitches on my temple and eyebrow. Peeling my hair away from the wound on my scalp, he examined his handiwork. My mouth and thumb burned and tingled from where his lips had touched them. I stared at his mouth as he chewed on his bottom lip. I wasn't sure I could deny him if he tried to kiss me again.

"Wait another day, then you should be good ta go." Otis lightly ran his fingertip over my eyebrow and temple. "These look good. It's yer head I'm worried about. It looks good too, but I don't want it ta open up if it gits too wet."

"Okay," I agreed. "I, umm...I feel disgustin' in more ways than one; if ya know what I mean."

"Yeah." He furrowed his brows. "You can take a bath and warsh the filth away t'day if ya want, but don't git yer head wet. I'd suggest havin' someone sit with ya in case ya get dizzy. Clevon'll stay with ya, no problem. Charlie'll stay, too. You can trust 'em."

I shook my head. "I'd rather it be Charlie."

Otis squeezed my shoulder and leaned in close. "You trust me even though I warned ya not to, right?"

I nodded, mesmerized by the softness in his blue eyes.

"Then trust me when I tell ya Clevon won't hurt ya. It's fine if ya'd rather it be Charlie who stays with ya, but I swear on my fucked up life Clevon'll never hurt ya."

"I b'lieve ya, but I don't git why ya keep sayin' I shouldn't trust ya."

"I told ya, I ain't a nice man. I've done shit that would terrify you."

"I ain't exactly innocent," I declared.

Otis snickered. "I doubt you've done the shit I've done. I'll give ya one hint, but that's all ya git."

I shrugged. "Okay."

"I'm a sadist."

"So ya like ta inflict pain upon others?" I crossed my arms. "That's a pretty broad hint. There're so many possibilities that could go with that."

"That's all ya git."

"Fiiiiine," I whined.

Otis grinned devilishly, exposing his crooked front tooth. "C'mon, mama. Let's go." 

He stepped out from in front of me. I sauntered into my room and picked up the Penicillin bottle from my dresser. Clutching it in my hand, I turned to face Otis. He was waiting with the door open. As I joined him, he wrapped his arm around my waist and shut the door behind us. 

We trudged down the hallway and steps carefully. Otis's free hand was splayed in front of me in case I fell. Once we got to the bottom, he led me into a large room with a huge dining room table and chairs. Charlie was at the head of the table. Clevon and Cutter were next in line on each side, followed by two other whores; one had dark hair, the other had blonde hair. Everyone greeted me in a friendly manner. I smiled but didn't speak. Charlie's other bitches looked me over curiously, especially the one with blonde hair.

_'That must be Candy,'_ I thought.

There was an assortment of breakfast foods available. Biscuits, sausage gravy, country ham, fried potatoes, grits, and scrambled eggs had all been picked through, but there was more than enough. Orange juice, coffee, milk, and sugar were also acquirable, depending on what I wanted.

"How ya feelin' this mornin', baby?" Charlie inquired seriously. "Ya look better than last night. All that rest must o' helped."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "Actually, now that ya mention it, I _feel_ a bit better."

"Glad ta hear it."

"She's still a lil dizzy," Otis let him know. "That's gonna happen fer a while."

"Prolly another week or so," Cutter added. "That gash on her head was pretty bad."

Charlie nodded.

"What, no chicken and waffles, Cutter? What the fuck?" I joked dryly, remembering how he had bragged about his fried chicken and how folks loved it. 

Everyone chuckled, including me. Cutter and Otis laughed the hardest.

"I'll be sure ta make it next time I'm here," Cutter promised. "How's that sound?"

"Sounds good," I said. "I'll hold ya to it."

"Won't hear no argument from me." Charlie gestured to the empty chairs. "Have a seat, baby. Eat whatever ya want. There's plenty here."

"Thanks." I smiled.

Otis placed me in a chair with a clean plate and utensils, then sat between me and who I assumed was Candy. Charlie introduced us.

"Ladies, this is Cherry. She's one o' y'all now. Or, I should say, she _will_ be once she heals. Cherry, this is Casey and Candy. I got a bunch o' other bitches runnin' around somewhere. You'll see 'em as the day goes on."

"Hi again," I said pleasantly. 

They grinned. Chewing my cheek, I glanced over all the food and tried to decide what to put on my plate. Although I was starving, I didn't want to overdo it in case I became nauseous. I really wanted the sausage gravy and some coffee, but those items were probably too heavy and acidic. 

Otis watched me contemplate and passed the eggs, biscuits, and butter. "Start with that," he advised. "It's light. Don't drink any coffee. The caffeine might enhance yer dizzy spells."

"Okay."

Cutter and Charlie exchanged a knowing look. My mind went back to the conversation I had overheard last night about Otis and I talking to each other with our eyes. It seemed he could read what I was thinking even when I wasn't looking at him.

"Clevon, go git this girl one o' her Ginger Ale's," Charlie ordered.

"Yes, sir."

Clevon departed from the room, and I spooned eggs onto my plate. Buttering my biscuit, I took a bite. It was soft and flaky.

"This is good," I complimented. "Are they homemade?"

"Yeah. I got personal cooks. They make us 3 meals a day," Charlie explained. "There should never be a need fer ya ta make yerself somethin' unless ya don't like what we're havin'. Of course, if ya got the munchies, that's all on you, baby." He winked.

I smiled. "Well, I feel like fuckin' royalty."

Charlie and Cutter grinned and shook their heads.

Chuckling, Otis patted my shoulder. "Shit's a lot different here than what yer used to."

"No shit." I tasted the eggs. I hadn't noticed, but they had melted cheese in them. "Fuuuckk," I moaned as they disintegrated in my mouth.

Otis clenched his jaw and pushed his hair back. I had a feeling he was having bad thoughts. Clevon returned with my soda and sat it in front of me.

"Thanks," I said sweetly.

Tipping his head, he returned to his seat. I opened my Ginger Ale and sipped. I didn't say anything else while I ate. Everyone else conversated except Otis. He observed everyone else while they joked around. Most of the time, his watchful eye was on me. Once I was finished with my food, I swallowed a pill. 

"You gonna eat anythin' else?" Otis asked.

I shook my head. "I'm good. I don't wanna push it. I'm sure my stomach has shrunk, too."

"Charlie," he called.

Charlie turned his attention away from Cutter.

"Cherry's gonna need someone ta sit with her while she takes a bath. Don't want her slippin' on her way in and outta the tub. I'd do it, but me and Cutter gotta git goin'. It's a long fuckin' drive back."

"I'll sit with her," Casey offered, flipping her dark hair behind her shoulder.

"No, she needs a man," Otis insisted. "Someone strong who can catch her if she falls."

Casey nodded. "Just know I'll help with whatever she needs."

Otis grunted. I grinned. That was sweet of her.

"I gotcha, baby," Charlie said, flashing me a warm smile.

"Thanks, boss."

"We'll do that after we take care o' business."

"Sounds like a plan."

Cutter slid his chair back and stood up. "Git yer shit, Happy Boy. Let's git crackin'."

"I don't got nothin' ta git."

"Then let's go."

"I wanna walk y'all out," I demanded, glancing at Otis.

"Sure, mama." 

Otis pushed to his feet, along with everyone else. Clevon began to collect dirty dishes. I was the last to move from my spot. On pure instinct, I reached for Otis, who slid his arm around my backside. Casey and Candy said their goodbyes and dispersed from the room. 

"See ya next time," Candy told Otis as she walked around a corner.

Otis didn't reply or even look in her direction. He was too busy gazing at me. Staring back, I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned into him. I had the inkling last night would be the last time Candy would ever touch Otis; she just didn't know it yet. Holding me close, he assisted me into the main room and out the swinging front doors. Cutter and Charlie were on our heels. 

As we stepped out onto the front porch, the hot desert sun blinded me. Cringing, I threw my hand in front of my eyes. Otis turned me so my back was to the brightness. The two brothers hugged and said their farewells.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the natural light, I stood on my toes and threw my arms around him. The sudden movement hurt my ribs, but I didn't care. Otis was leaving, and I felt like he was taking a piece of my soul with him. I didn't understand why that was happening because I barely knew him. All I knew was my chest ached like my heart had been ripped out. He was the one person in the world who made me feel safe and grounded. I was scared about what I would face emotionally once I was without his comforting presence. 

Sighing heavily, Otis flattened me against him and buried his face in my neck. "I'll be back," he whispered, his lips skimming my ear. "This ain't goodbye for ferever, just fer a while."

"I know," I murmured. "I don't even know you, but I _feel_ like I do. Yer takin' part o' me with ya. Does that make any sense, or am I talkin' nonsense?"

"Yes, it makes sense," he lisped. He pulled back to look at me, his tone hushed. "I promised ya I'd make sure shit was alright and I did that. Yer gonna be fine. Charlie'll take care o' ya. That's why I brought ya here. Cuz I knew he would."

Nodding, I gulped around the knot in my throat. "Thank you." 

Otis grunted, his eyes glittering in the sunlight. Tears pricked my eyes. It took all the energy I had to hold them back. My lip wobbled with the effort. 

"Hey, none o' that, mama," he said under his breath. "Yer strong."

Sighing forlornly, I did my best to put a lid on my emotions. One tear trickled down my cheek before I blinked the rest away. Otis rubbed it away with his thumb. Stroking my jaw, he kissed the corner of my mouth. Leaning in for a second kiss, he swiped the tip of his tongue over the seam of my lips. I kissed back but didn't open my mouth to him.

"Let's go, Happy Boy," Cutter said, interrupting our moment.

I grabbed Otis's arm as he unwillingly backed off, my hand sliding down to grip his. I kept a hold on it as he advanced towards the steps. Our bond lingered until he was out of my reach. The last thing to touch was our fingertips as our hands broke apart. As Cutter and Otis descended the steps, Otis looked over his shoulder. My breath hitched. The sorrow in his eyes was undeniable and shattered my heart.

"See ya, Cherry," Cutter said. 

"Bye," I said softly. 

Charlie stepped next to me and rested his hand on the small of my back. I clenched one of his suspenders and tried to squelch the agony I was fighting to hide. Both of us watched as Otis and Cutter swaggered towards the end of the building. As they turned the corner, Otis glanced my way one last time. He looked as miserable as I felt.

Cutter's car doors slammed shut and the engine roared to life. Otis backed up and drove by, beeping the horn. He didn't remove his eyes from the dirt road in front of him. Cutter waved. Charlie and I reciprocated the gesture. Once they reached the gate and the guard opened it, I stuffed my feelings as deep down inside as I possibly could and faced Charlie.

He exhaled, his eyes holding sympathy. "Look, I know this is a big fuckin' deal, baby. Yer whole God damn life has changed and all this..." He waved a hand at the property around us. "...well, it's all brand-spankin' new, but I swear it's fer the better. I'm gonna take good care o' ya, alright?"

"Okay, boss," I muttered, dropping my eyes to my bare feet.

"Look, Happy Boy pulled me aside and made me swear on my soul that I would. In fact, he threatened ta kill me if I didn't, but that's what I do anyway. That's just who I am." He cupped my jaw and lifted my gaze to his. "I know yer upset. As much as yer tryin' ta hide it, I see it, but Happy Boy'll be back."

"I know. It's just..." I shrugged. "...he's all I know right now. This is gonna sound cheesy as fuck, but he's my rock, and now that rock is gone." My eyebrows drew together. "He threatened ta kill ya?"

"Yeah. It took a lot of assurance b'fore he backed off." Chuckling, Charlie patted my shoulder. "It's all good, though. No hard feelin's. We argue sometimes, but Otis fights with everyone. I don't take it ta heart. That's why we call 'im Happy Boy. Cuz he's a grumpy fuckin' asshole."

I giggled.

"Him and my brother come back every few weeks ta every couple months," he added. "When they visit depends on the type o' business we handle. We do business t'gether a lot, so you'll be seein' both of 'em plenty."

I nodded. "So what business do you and I need ta handle?" 

"Let's go in my office," he said. "I got a contract fer ya ta sign and some forms fer ya ta fill out."

"Alright, boss. Can I git some ibuprofen or somethin'?"

"Sure, baby." Taking my hand, Charlie directed me inside.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter was rough to write. It was super intense and I cried several times while writing it. Get some fucking tissues.

\------------------

After I grabbed my soda and Penicillin from the dining room, Charlie led me into his office. I settled into one of the chairs while he sat at his desk and dug around inside. Clevon brought me a pain reliever, which I popped immediately. My head and nose were throbbing like a motherfucker, and my ribs were screaming. On his way out, Clevon closed the door to give us some privacy. 

Charlie produced a small pile of paperwork. There was a contract, a list of his own personal rules, and an emergency/medical form. He explained what was in the contract and how the brothel worked. 

"Okay, baby, this is how shit goes," he began, lacing his fingers on top of his desk. "You work 12 hour shifts. When we get a client, which is all the time, all who are available present yerselves. We git pretty busy, so there really ain't a lull in business. That's rare, especially on the weekends. When ya present yerselves, the client gits ta pick whoever they want, but _you_ have the right ta deny anyone. 

If you've had a bad experience with some asshole or they make ya uncomfortable, you can tell 'em ta go fuck themselves. If what ya've endured is bad enough, they won't be allowed inside the gates ever again. Ya also have the right ta deny certain sexual acts if it's somethin' ya ain't particularly fond of. I don't want ya doin' shit ya don't wanna do. That's called rape and sexual assault, and I don't play that shit. I got men with guns and radios everywhere. If ya run into a problem, there's a panic button in every room. Push that or just scream fer help. Someone's always around. They'll hear ya.

Ya also git ta check every cock ya come in contact with fer evidence of STD's or anythin' ya think is off. If ya see somethin' suspicious, the client gits escorted off the property. I ain't havin' my bitches git infected. Sometimes, and this is don't happen often, we git lady clients. If yer door don't swing that way, ya don't gotta service 'em. 

Charges depend on what services clients want. We got a menu fer the different shit they can git. Some o' that shit costs a lot o' cash, especially if they pay fer a full night. If they want somethin' extra, it's up ta you ta grant that wish, and you can charge whatever ya want. 

You'll make good money here, baby; way more than ya did when you were workin' the streets. I git half the money ya make, though. Ya also pay fer yer room and food, which is pretty fuckin' cheap. Me, Clevon, or Bubba'll transport ya outta the gates ta git shit ya need, like clothes, beauty products, personal hygiene items, etcetera. However, since yer a special case, I'll teach ya how ta drive. No lady who works here knows how, but I want ya ta learn."

My eyebrows raised. I was a little blown away by that. "Why's that?" 

"I got my reasons, baby," Charlie replied, smiling warmly.

"Otis got somethin' ta do with that?"

He shook his head. "He didn't say shit 'bout it, but that's part of it."

"Okay..." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Something told me not to ask anymore questions, so I simply nodded.

"Oh, another thing. Since this is a legal brothel, ya have ta git legal and medical clearance."

"Fine with me. Everythin' sounds good."

"One more thing. I realize ya ain't got no money. I know ya ain't gonna have none fer a while. I'll just keep a record o' what ya owe me fer rent and food, and you can pay off yer debt once yer healed."

"Man, yer generous," I gushed.

"Yeah, well..." Charlie rolled a shoulder forward. "I like ta treat others how I'd wanna be treated."

"Makes sense."

Once I concurred with everything we had discussed, Charlie passed me a pen and the contract. After flipping through it and reading the fine print, I signed it and slid it his way. He also autographed it. Presenting a second copy, he scratched his signature on it and handed it over for me to keep for my own records. I glanced at his John Hancock.

_Charlie Altamont, _it read. He had a different last name than Cutter did.

Next, he handed over his list of personal rules. The rules were where things got interesting, but they weren't anything I didn't already expect. Every pimp I ever had in the past operated by the same guidelines. They read as follows:

_1\. I don't need you. You need me. You are replaceable. Keep that in mind._

_2\. I'm in control. I own you. You are mine. I take care of you. You live here. You don't leave the property unless I say so. If you are to leave and I don't escort you, you will check in at the agreed upon times, and you will travel with whoever I assign to you._

_3\. Always remember, I'm two steps ahead of you. I know everything. You can't get away with anything. If I find out you've done some trifling ass shit, I will never trust you and will always think you're scheming. If I can't trust you, I will replace you._

_4\. If you suspect another bitch of shadiness, you will always tell me. **No matter what.**_

_5\. You'll never know all of my business plans, but I'll know every single bit of yours. If you happen to stumble upon something you shouldn't see, you saw nothing. What happens on the property stays on the property. Whatever we discuss stays between us._ _   
_

_6\. You will always use condoms for any sexual acts you perform. They're in every service room. If you want lube or toys, you have to provide them. No kissing clients. Clients don't touch your intimate areas in any way. Clients shower before they interact with you. You shower once you're finished._ _   
_

_7\. You will undergo weekly health exams for STD's. You are required to have a sexual health certificate renewed every 12 weeks._

_8\. You're on call all the time._

_9\. I try you before I sell you. I get to fuck you whenever I want unless you say no._ _   
_

_10\. You'll call me boss. Respect me and I'll respect you. Follow the rules and you'll be fine._

Nodding, I signed Charlie's guidelines and passed them over. All pimps fucked their whores before they sold them. That was to be expected. Whether or not he would continue to fuck me remained to be seen. Something told me he wouldn't. Not with Otis lurking in the shadows. If Cutter didn't want to step on his toes, then Charlie probably felt the same way.

Signing a second copy of the rules, he slid it towards me. Again, _Charlie Altamont_ popped off of the paper.

"I usually do background investigations, but I ain't doin' that fer you," he said. "I know where ya came from. I know what yer story is, so that ain't necessary. One thing I am gonna do that I don't usually do is have ya tested fer pregnancy in about a month. Happy Boy said Slick didn't git far enough ta cum in ya, but I wanna make sure yer alright. If yer pregnant, we'll deal with it, but I don't think ya are."

Blowing out a puff of air, I grimaced and bobbed my head. Pregnancy hadn't even occurred to me. I prayed to whatever Creator there was that I wasn't with child.

"Oh, and about #8," Charlie added. "There's an exception ta that rule. When my brother and Happy Boy come ta visit, then you b'long ta them fer however long they want ya. Sometimes, they're here fer a couple o' days. They get discounts, usually half or 75% off."

"Okay, but I don't think Cutter'll ever want me." 

Cutter had said as much in the conversation I overheard the night before. However, I was looking forward to belonging to Otis for a few days.

Charlie snickered. "Prolly not, but I had ta lay that on the table anyway. I know fer a fact Happy Boy wants ya. He's unusually fond of you. I ain't never seen 'im look at a bitch the way he looks at you, and I've known 'im fer a long time. In fact, I've never seen 'im put 'is mouth anywhere near any o' my bitches. And he certainly never treats 'em like he did you or baby's the fuck out of 'em. That tells me an awful lot. Candy was 'is favorite, but I think ya just kicked her to the curb like a bag o' fuckin' trash. Her feelin's are gonna be hurt when Happy Boy comes back and wants nothin' ta do with her. She kinda likes 'im."

I laughed softly. "I can see why. Otis is...ummm...fascinating. I'll put it that way."

"I know ya like 'im. I ain't stupid, baby. And I realize Otis ain't gonna listen ta my rules when y'all are alone. He's gonna do whatever the fuck he wants. He's a stubborn asshole." Charlie chuckled. "I know he's gonna kiss ya. I already see that comin'. I also know there's gonna be inappropriate touchin'. Y'all like each other way too God damn much fer it not ta happen. Just don't lemme see it or find out about it."

"But yer rules say no kissin' clients and that ya know everythin'," I pointed out.

Raising an eyebrow, he crossed his arms. "Just don't lemme see it, alright? I can't prove shit if I don't see it."

I smiled playfully. Charlie had basically given me permission to fuck Otis however I desired behind closed doors. "What was that ya just said? I dunno what yer talkin' about."

Charlie tipped his head. "Now yer catchin' on. I got one more paper fer ya ta fill out. It's a file with yer real name, blood type, medical records or any problems, emergency contact info, yer family's address, shit like that. If ya git sick, I got a doctor friend, so doncha worry 'bout that. When it's time, I'll be callin' 'im ta remove yer stitches. He's also the one who does the STD and pregnancy tests."

"Okay, but I don't really have an emergency contact. I don't talk ta my family no more. They all hate me cuz I'm a prostitute. They think they're better than me. I can give ya my mama's address, but I don't think she'd give a fuck if anythin' happens ta me."

"Then list me as yer second emergency contact. And listen; ya might not talk ta 'em no more, but you should tell 'em where ya are. That way if somethin' happens ta one of 'em, they got a way ta get ahold o' ya. And b'fore ya say ya don't give a fuck, I know that's bullshit. I saw the hurt in yer eyes when ya said they hate ya."

I sighed. "Alright, boss." He was right. I should at least tell my mama where I was.

Charlie pushed the paper toward me. I filled it out and passed it back to him. Scanning it, his eyes widened.

"Mary's yer real name? That's ironic as fuck! Yer from Ruggsville County?!"

I giggled. "Yeah."

"That's where my brother-"

"And Otis live, I know."

"How the fuck do ya know that?! They don't tell anyone that shit!"

"Well, ya know that bottle o' Penicillin I got? It was originally Cutter's. His real name and address were on the label b'fore I tore it off." I stroked my chin. "Fer the life o' me, I can't remember what 'is real name is. It seems ta have slipped my mind. They told me a lot o' stuff I don't remember. Must be the concussion." I winked. "I didn't tell 'em that's where I'm from, either. At the time, I was too fucked up ta divulge the information."

Charlie smirked. "Smart girl. Happy Boy was right when he said you could be trusted."

"Yeah. I do have a question, though, if you'll answer it."

"Go for it, baby."

I lowered my voice. "Cutter mentioned yer family adopted 'im. How come y'all got different last names?"

Charlie shrugged. "My folks never changed 'is surname. They didn't feel it was necessary, and Cutter never asked fer it ta be done."

"Oh." I nodded.

He filed my paperwork away in his desk. "We're done here. I wanna give ya a tour o' the property, show ya the different bungalows and rooms; that's if ya feel up to it. We have the main room out there, which ya've seen, a bar, a massage room, a BDSM room, a stripper room, roleplaying rooms with different themes..." 

He paused as he thought, tapping his finger on his desk. 

"Schoolgirl/professor, locker room/peeping Tom, and naughty secretary are all very popular. We have regular bungalows with different styles for client preferences also. All the buildings on the property have their own setups. All my bitches live here in this building with me. I like ta keep y'all close. Clevon, Bubba, anyone else who works here...they live in the apartments."

"Umm, actually, can we do the tour later after I've had a bath and some rest?" I inquired hopefully. "I ain't too sure I'm strong enough ta walk around in that desert heat just yet."

"Sure, baby," Charlie said. "Let's go upstairs so you can do what ya gotta do. Lemme just grab one thing."

"Okay, boss."

Smiling widely, he opened his top desk drawer and pulled out a book. I peered at it curiously.

"Ooh, whatcha got?" 

Charlie held up the paperback so I could see the cover. _A Clockwork Orange_ by Anthony Burgess. "It's pretty good," he said.

"Oh, I heard o' that. I'd like ta read it one day."

"Ya like ta read, baby?"

"I love ta read."

"So does Happy Boy. I'll take ya out ta git some books once ya got some money saved up. How's that sound?"

I grinned. "Okay, boss."

"Let's go upstairs."

Hopping up, Charlie stepped around his desk and met me at my chair. Standing up carefully, I took his arm when he offered it to me. He opened the office door, and we traveled toward the steps. Clevon was waiting quietly.

"C'mon up and stand outside Cherry's door," Charlie instructed. "We ain't ta be disturbed. She needs ta bathe."

"Yes, sir," Clevon said. 

He followed us up the steps and to my bedroom door. Charlie turned the knob and indicated for me to go first. Obeying, I eyeballed my bags. 

"Umm, boss?"

He shut the door and turned to me. "Yeah?"

"Can ya pick these up and bring 'em in the bathroom, please? They got some personal items and clothes I'm gonna need."

"Sure, baby."

"Thanks."

Charlie stuck his book inside one of my bags and grabbed them. Picking up my robe from my vanity chair, I sauntered into the bathroom and hung it on the back of the door. He sat my bags down by the sink. Putting the toilet seat down, he plopped down on it, retrieved his book, and opened it to the bookmark.

"You just tell me if ya need me, baby," he said.

"I will, boss."

I turned on the tub faucet and let the water heat up. When it reached the desired temperature, I plugged the tub and slowly undressed. Yanking my used pad out of my panties, I tossed it in the trash. Charlie didn't lift his eyes from his reading material, which surprised me. I figured he would at least want to see what I looked like naked. Crouching down to my bags, I searched for my body wash. A familiar blue and white flannel lay bunched inside one of them. 

Gasping, I almost lost my shit. The shirt belonged to Otis; it was the one I had my head on while we had been in the car. Snatching it from the bag and raising it to my face but not touching my nose, I inhaled his scent. The smell of a farm hit me like a freight train. The scent was so powerful, goosebumps rose on my flesh, and I almost fell on my ass. Otis hadn't even been gone an hour and I missed him terribly.

"Oh, my God," I said in a wobbly voice. The empty hole in my chest expanded and tears pricked my eyes.

"What?" Charlie questioned, looking up from his book. 

I showed him the flannel, my lip quivering.

"That's Happy Boy's, ain't it?"

"Yeah. He had it in 'is lap in the car. My head was on it while I slept."

"That's one of 'is favorite shirts. He's gonna be upset he left it b'hind."

"I dunno how it got in my bags. It was in the car. Unless he put it in there last night when he went out ta git my shit."

"If that's the case, he did it on purpose," Charlie pondered. "He had no reason ta take it outta the car. We're in the God damn desert. There ain't no need fer flannel shirts out here."

"Fuck..." I breathed, my lip trembling harder. 

"Just gives me more proof he gives a fuck," he stated.

I grunted. Shoving Otis's shirt back in the bag, I grabbed my body wash and sucked up my feelings as best as I could. I didn't want to cry in front of Charlie. I didn't like showing my emotions to anyone.

As I approached the tub, Charlie wordlessly held out his hand. I grasped it and stepped into the water. He kept a firm hold on my hand until I was settled, then returned to his book. If he had noticed my moist eyes, he didn't say so.

As I relaxed in the tub, my thoughts remained on Otis. I remembered the first time I saw him, how blue and firey his eyes had been. The first thing he had done was kneel down and inspect the damage Marquis had inflicted upon me. Even though his eyes had held animosity, I knew there was something special about him. Deep within the hellfire of his soul, there was wisdom and understanding. I trusted him right away even though I didn't know him.

That exact moment is when the reality of what had happened to me slammed into my brain. Flashbacks of Marquis beating me ran through my mind, then the rape, then Cutter's muffled gunshot. I remembered my vision clearing as I coughed and sucked in oxygen, Marquis slumped on top of me, the blood dripping from his head, his cock still inside me before Cutter ripped him off of me. Everything began to repeat in my mind like a broken record, and my emotions went into overdrive.

"Fuck you, Marquis, you fuckin' piece o' shit motherfucker!" I snarled.

Startled, Charlie closed his book and set it aside. "Cherry? You alright, baby?"

I didn't acknowledge he had even spoken to me. Swiping a washcloth, I desperately squeezed body wash onto it and began to scrub every inch of my body. The water was still running, and Charlie reached over and turned off the faucet.

"Okay, baby," he said softly. "I'll just-"

"Don't you fuckin' dare leave me alone!" I growled.

"Alright, baby. I'll just sit here. You do what ya gotta do," Charlie murmured. "You wanna scream, cry and cuss that motherfucker ta hell, ya do it."

"God damn that motherfucker! Who does he think he is?!"

Charlie didn't say anything else. He simply stared at the floor and bathroom walls while I ranted and raved and scoured my skin until it was raw. All that jostling around hurt my ribs, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be clean again. I went through several dizzy spells, but I ignored them and kept scrubbing. I was too infuriated to care.

Washing between my legs stung like a bitch, but that was where I was the most defiled. That asshole's cock had been inside my pussy without my consent. That fuckface had ripped me open, but thanks to Otis, I was aware my pussy would heal and function normally. 

I longed for the comfort of his embrace. I craved the kisses he pressed to the corner of my mouth. I wanted to feel his hand in my hair and on my jaw again. I needed intimacy only he could give me.

Eventually, Charlie grasped my wrist to stop me from exfoliating. "Cherry, baby, ya gotta stop. Yer gonna hurt yerself," he said under his breath.

Choking up, I dropped the washcloth into the tub. He rung it out and hung it over the faucet. As my fury dissipated and morphed into misery, I began to sob. Enveloping my entire body in hot water except for my head, I turned away from Charlie. I didn't want him to see me in such a vulnerable state, but I didn't want to be alone, either. Tears cascaded down my cheeks and dripped into the tub, and snot oozed from my nostrils. I didn't bother to wipe my nose. It would hurt too much if I touched it, so I just let it drain.

"Oh, God, no!" I wailed. "Why??? Why did he fuckin' do this ta me?! What the fuck did I do ta deserve this?!"

"_You_ didn't do shit. I'll never understand a man who beats and rapes women. Well, I take that back. He ain't a man. He's a pussy. Or should I say, he _was a pussy._ I'm sorry," Charlie muttered.

"Maybe if I hadn't gone ta 'im fer help...maybe he wouldn't have-"

"No, baby. This ain't yer fault. Yer a victim."

"I'm so fuckin' dirty and tainted! I'm so fuckin' ashamed! No one is gonna want me ever again!"

"That ain't true. Happy Boy already wants ya," Charlie said softly. "He cares about ya."

"I'm disgusting and worthless! I hate myself fer lettin' this happen!"

"No, you ain't! Yer _not_ worthless or disgusting! This ain't yer fault!" he insisted. "You didn't let shit happen! That asshole took what he wanted!"

"I'm so tired and tense and anxious at the same time! If Marquis wasn't already dead, I'd kill 'im myself!" I blubbered.

"And you'd have every right ta do that. But my brother took care o' that already, and Happy Boy put ya back t'gether. Y'all cleaned 'im out, which was good revenge if ya ask me. Now, ya just gotta put yer mind back t'gether and take control o' yer life again."

"But I'm losin' my fuckin' mind, boss! I've been raped, but I've wanted Otis since the first time I saw 'im! That shouldn't happen! I shouldn't be thinkin' about fuckin' at all!"

"Baby..." Charlie gripped my shoulder. "Just because you've been raped, it don't mean ya won't be attracted ta someone. Happy Boy helped ya. He took care o' ya and babied ya. Y'all have a connection, some kinda weird bond I ain't never seen 'im have with no one else. What's happenin' b'tween y'all is good. It's normal."

"Marquis almost killed me! He almost choked me ta death! I could feel myself dyin'!"

"But yer _not_ dead. You survived," he pointed out. "Yer right here, hours away from where that vile shit happened. You don't gotta go back there ever again. Yer safe with me. I ain't ever gonna hurt ya. No one here is gonna touch ya, and you ain't gonna work 'til yer ready."

I squeezed Charlie's hand. Even though I didn't want him to see me like this, I was grateful he was here. I was a fucked up mess, but everything he said was the truth and I knew it.

Dropping my hand back under the water, I didn't utter another word. I had become numb. I laid in the tub and stared at the wall while Charlie stroked my hair. I don't know how long I laid there. I didn't realize the water had turned cold and I was shivering until he spoke.

"Baby, you gotta git outta the tub. Yer gonna get hypothermia if ya don't."

I grunted but didn't move.

Charlie pulled the plug and reached for a towel. "C'mon, lemme help ya."

I huffed, but I allowed him to assist me out of the tub. Wrapping a towel around me, he bent down to my bags and dug out a pair of panties and a pad. I didn't budge, so he dried my body and the drippy ends of my hair. He wiped tear tracks from my face and drying snot from my upper lip, but he was careful not to touch my nose.

When Charlie realized I was too disassociated to take care of myself, he lifted my feet one by one just like Otis had done that morning and slid my panties up to my knees. Attaching my pad, he pulled them up the rest of the way.

"C'mon, baby. Let's git ya in ta bed. You should rest," he said softly.

Taking my hand, he guided me into my room and helped me into bed. Once I laid down, he pulled the covers over me.

"I'll be right back." Charlie strolled over to my door and cracked it open. "Clevon, go downstairs in my office and git Cherry's soda and her pills."

"Yes, sir."

Charlie closed the door and returned to the bathroom. He emerged carrying my robe and Otis's shirt. Tossing my robe on the vanity chair, he sat on the edge of the bed. 

Sighing, he said, "Happy Boy warned me that you would break down. I knew it was comin'. I just didn't think it would be this soon. I think that's why he put 'is shirt in yer bag. It's b'longs ta him, it has 'is smell. He knows he makes ya feel safe. He left a piece of 'imself here fer you ta have 'til he comes back. Just more proof he cares for ya."

Nodding, I took Otis's shirt and gathered it in my arms. That familiar farm smell filled my nostrils, and images of his handsome face occupied my thoughts. Exhaling heavily, I closed my eyes.

"You don't have ta come down fer lunch. I know ya ain't up to it. I'll bring ya some food."

"Thanks, boss," I mumbled. My voice was barely audible.

Charlie leaned down and kissed my cheek. "Yer welcome, baby. Git some rest." 

When he moved over to the door, Clevon asked him if I was alright. "No. No, she isn't. I don't think she's gonna be okay fer a while. She's almost catatonic. I'm just gonna let her do what she needs ta do ta heal, whatever that may be. If she needs ta stay in her head fer a bit, then so be it." Taking my things from Clevon, he sat them on my nightstand and split from my room.

A few hours later, Charlie brought up a tray of food. Though I had no appetite, I forced every last morsel down my throat. I also drank all my Ginger Ale and swallowed my pill. As I sat my tray on my nightstand, I noticed an object lying there that I hadn't seen before. 

Picking up the item, I turned it over. It was a Polaroid picture of a younger Otis out in the sun on a farm. He was dressed in overalls and a red sleeveless flannel shirt, and he was feeding a horse an apple. There was a beautiful female child on his hip with platinum blonde hair and royal blue eyes who appeared to be about 5 years old. Otis's hair was blowing in the wind, and he was actually smiling. The sight made my heart melt. 

I wondered where Charlie had acquired the picture from. Cutter had mentioned he had a kid. Maybe the girl was his daughter.

Lying back down, I bundled Otis's shirt in my arms and gazed at the photo until my eyes became heavy. Tucking it under my pillow, I fell asleep instantly. In my dreams, I was married to a gray-haired Otis. We lived on a farm in the mountains and had an albino toddler son who looked exactly like him. I didn't know until 15 years later, but I dreamt the future that day. I didn't remember the dream until it became a reality.


	8. Chapter 8

After my break down in the tub, a bout of major depression consumed my soul. I stayed in bed for two weeks and had constant flashbacks and nightmares about the beatings and the rape. I didn't speak unless I had to, and I only got up to bathe, brush my teeth, relieve my bladder, and take care of bowel movements. When I wasn't sleeping, I clutched Otis's shirt and stared at his photo. 

Charlie continued to bring me three meals a day and check on my injuries and my sanity. When the time arose, he called his doctor friend to come and remove my stitches. My vaginal tears had stopped bleeding and I no longer needed feminine napkins. My pussy was examined, and I was tested for STD's. I bawled like a baby during the entire procedure. Charlie held my hand and soothed me the whole time.

One afternoon, I had enough of my self-pity. I was sick and tired of feeling weak, worthless, and hopeless. I was lonely and craved human companionship. Deciding to leave the solitude of my bedroom, I searched for Charlie. I hadn't had a tour of the _Fun House_ yet, so I was a little lost. I felt like a mouse in a maze scouting for the prize at the end.

Eventually, I found Charlie in the bar with Clevon. When I wandered in, he was overjoyed to see me. I received a warm hug and cheek kisses. Neither mentioned anything about what had happened over the past two weeks, which I was grateful for. I just wanted to relax with other people and try to feel normal again.

That evening, after supper, we lounged in the bar and played cards and shot pool. Clevon drank and Charlie snorted coke, but I abstained from liquor. I wanted to do nothing more than drain my fucked up thoughts away, but I was still suffering from dizzy spells. Charlie advised me not to get hammered until all symptoms of my concussion had ceased. 

He gave me a tour of the _Fun House_ the next day. We walked the property with our arms linked, journeyed through each building, and he pointed out where all his employees lived. He also showed me structures I wasn't allowed to enter. I didn't ask questions. I was positive those dwellings were used for illegal business activities.

As the next 6 weeks progressed, I fully healed from all my injuries and slowly emerged from my shell. Charlie had me tested for pregnancy. I wasn't with child. My results from the STD tests came back clean as well, and I received my sexual health certificate. 

One day, when I was feeling unusually bold, I approached Charlie. It was time for him to try me before he sold me. Performing sexually was tough, but he was gentle and supported me through all of his services. I was thankful I went to him because he made me feel comfortable. I interacted with him several more times until I could complete sex acts without a problem. 

Once I was good to go, I practiced with other men who worked inside the walls, like Clevon and Bubba. Charlie always stayed outside the door in case I freaked out, but that never happened. No one acted in an ill manner, they didn't touch me without permission, and no one attempted to manipulate my intimate areas.

That's when the nightmares and flashbacks stopped. The only side effect of sexual trauma remaining was my lack of libido. That was unusual. Before the rape, I was a sexually healthy woman. I knew how to get myself off and did so quite often. I didn't dwell on it or try to push myself. I figured my sex drive would come back once it had a reason to.

Once I was confident I could do my job, Charlie accompanied me outside the property to get registered as a sex worker and to buy the things I needed, like clothes and personal products. Books, a few different knives, lube, and a vibrator were some of the extra items on my list. 

I started working once I was legal and paid my debt to Charlie back as fast as I could, which didn't take long. He had been honest when he had told me I would make good money. I quickly became a client favorite. Almost everyone preferred me over the other prostitutes. However, there wasn't enough of me to go around. Sometimes, clients had to settle for the other whores. 

Some of the other prostitutes were envious of how fast I had climbed the ranks. Most weren't cordial to me at all, but I ignored their hostility. Casey was nice and we hung out occasionally, but Candy eyeballed me like I was her enemy. She had stopped being friendly after Otis left. I had never connected with women easily, so the lack of female friendship wasn't a loss. I had Charlie's companionship and I was plenty satisfied with that. I preferred to keep my circle small.

Throughout those two months, I slowly blossomed and began to enjoy life again. Some things I loved were music and dancing. Charlie liked those activities as well, and we indulged quite frequently. We drank and partied together a lot. He wasn't just my boss; he had become my closest friend and was dear to my heart. I had healed mentally and physically with his help. Otis had been truthful when he had said Charlie would take care of me. 

As for Otis, I yearned to be reunited with him. He consumed my every thought. I felt as if part of my spirit was missing. Sometimes his voice echoed in my head as if he were speaking to me, and I encountered vivid emotions that weren't mine. I had to be imagining it. There was no way that was possible. I didn't even know him. How could we have such a strong telepathic bond? 

I tried to push Otis from my mind, but he was always lurking in the shadows. Those icy blue eyes of his infiltrated my dreams and burned into my soul. I constantly awakened in the middle of the night covered in goosebumps and drenched with sweat, and it wasn't from nightmares. My lips and the inside of my mouth tingled as if he had kissed me, and the residual effects of his warm embrace and rough hands lingered on my naked flesh. The only part of my body that remained untouched was my pussy. I was sure I had lost my fucking mind.

The hunger to torture animals returned with a vengeance, and I craved to begin my weird collection again. I was aware I couldn't hide my bizarre hobby from Charlie. He knew everything, and his rules specifically stated I couldn't pull any shady shit. I wasn't sure how to handle the situation. He had been good to me and I didn't want to do anything behind his back.

One day, I went for a stroll around the property to mull over my problem. When Charlie had given me the tour of the _Fun House_, he had told me certain structures were locked for a reason. I stumbled upon a building that was supposed to be chained shut but wasn't. The doors were wide open and there were no men on guard, which I found to be rather odd. I was afraid someone untrustworthy would discover it. Unsure if something was wrong, I stepped inside the doorway and called out for someone. No one answered, but the lights were on. 

Rows of equipment used for making alcohol filled the building. Pressure cookers, copper tubing, metal pots, plastic buckets, drums and tubing, cheesecloth, cornmeal, yeast, and glass jars had their own places for storage. There was a water purifying system as well. Different fruits had their own spots, too. The only reason I knew the names of the equipment was because my parents had made moonshine when I was a kid.

I gasped as I realized Charlie was running an illegal hooch business. It had to be one of the deals he did with Cutter and Otis. I needed to get back to the main building as quickly as possible to report to Charlie that the doors had been open and there were no guards or anyone inside, but I also wanted some of those jars for my future specimens. It was almost as if finding that building was fate.

After closing the doors, I raced to the main building. Bursting inside, I startled Clevon, who was standing in front of Charlie's office holding his rifle.

"Sorry," I panted. "Didn't mean ta scare ya."

"What's wrong?" he demanded to know, his beady eyes showing concern.

"Boss Man in there?" I gestured to the office.

"Yeah."

"Come with me. You should know, too."

I rushed inside with Clevon on my heels. Charlie glanced up from multiple stacks of money and a cash counting machine. His eyebrows raised at the urgent expression on my sweat-sheened face and at the way my chest heaved.

"One second, baby," he said calmly. He finished with the pile of cash he was adding up, set it aside, and focused his attention on me. "What is it? What's got ya freaked the fuck out?"

"Clevon, shut the door," I ordered, plopping down on one of the chairs.

He did so without question. Charlie slid his glass of sweet tea my way, which I downed half of before passing it back to him.

"Thanks, boss," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Yeah, now start talkin'," he commanded.

"I was out walkin' the property. You know, just thinkin' or whatever. I do that sometimes. Well, uhh, the buildings ya told me I wasn't allowed to go into that are always s'pposed to be locked?"

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed. "Yeah..."

"One of 'em was unlocked and the doors were wide open. No men were around so I yelled inside, but no one was in there. I closed the doors, but someone should check it out. I dunno if somethin's amiss or not."

"Shit," Clevon muttered.

"Which building?" 

"The hooch building."

Charlie's eyes widened. Scrambling for his walkie talkie, he mashed the button. "Bubba, copy!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Check building 4B, but wait fer Clevon! It's unlocked, the doors were wide fuckin' open, and there're no God damn men on guard! Cherry found it like that! Report back immediately!"

"You got it, boss."

Charlie slammed the walkie talkie down on the desk. "Fuckin' go, Clevon! Take some God damn men with ya!"

"Yes, sir!" As he dashed out of the office, Clevon got on his radio and assembled a party of 5 other men.

"Ya did the right thing, baby," Charlie praised. "Thank you."

"I didn't mean ta look inside, but I thought someone might be hurt or somethin' happened. God knows-"

He held up a hand to hush me. "Relax, baby. I ain't mad."

I took a deep breath. "Well, do ya think ya'd be willin' ta gimme some o' those jars?"

"I got plenty." Charlie shrugged. "What for?"

"I, umm..." 

Playing with the hem of my shirt, I glanced over my shoulder. In Clevon's rush to follow Charlie's orders, he had left the door open. I jumped up, marched over, and closed it securely.

"This must be a big fuckin' deal,' Charlie gathered.

Nodding, I gulped. "I gotta tell ya somethin'. I ain't never told no one b'fore. I ain't sure how yer gonna react."

He rested his elbows on his desk and laced his fingers. "Go on."

"Well, uhh..." Exhaling heavily, I sat down and clasped my hands in my lap. "Yer rules say ya know everythin' and not ta keep anythin' from ya, right?"

Charlie looked at me over top of his glasses. "Yeah..." 

"I have a hobby. I haven't indulged since Dallas, but it's killin' me not to. I need ta git back into it b'fore I lose my fuckin' mind," I whined.

He straightened up in his chair. "Why do I got a feelin' yer 'bout ta tell me some real fucked up shit?" 

"Cuz I am," I said softly. "But I figured it's better ta be honest than ta do it b'hind yer back."

"Honesty is always the best policy," he agreed. 

"I, umm..." I grimaced. "I'm a sadist. I catch, torture and kill animals fer fun. I keep their organs, bones, and skins as a collection and make art out of 'em. I want the jars so I have somewhere ta keep the organs. I'll need formaldehyde if ya agree ta lemme do this."

Removing his glasses, Charlie sat them on the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jesus H Christ, girl. Yer just like _them_."

My eyebrows knitted together. "Who?"

"Happy Boy, my brother, and the rest o' their fucked up family."

Otis had mentioned he was a sadist, but I wasn't going to divulge that information unless I had to. He had told me that in confidence. "Huh? How?"

Charlie crossed his arms over his chest. "Yer under contract and my rules, so whatever is discussed between us stays b'tween us."

I nodded. "Of course, boss."

"Alright. This is gonna take a few minutes, so just bear with me."

"Okay."

"My brother owns a roadside attraction and gas station called _Captain Spaulding's Museum of Monsters and Mayhem_. He sells his famous fried chicken there. The museum is made up of sideshow deformities and has exhibits of violent crime. My brother dresses as a clown and the whole place is like somethin' you'd see in a horror film. There's even a murder ride where my brother teaches customers about serial killers and a local legend named Dr. Satan."

"That explains the makeup," I muttered.

"He had on the clown makeup in Dallas?"

"Yeah. When Cutter shot Marquis, his face was the first thing I saw once he pushed Marquis off o' me. The makeup was faded, but it was like ya said. It was like he walked out of a horror film or some kinda weird, tripped out carnival or circus. He warshed it off b'fore we left Dallas."

Charlie bobbed his head and continued. 

"Anyway, folks usually b'come interested in the legend of Dr. Satan. He was hung by a lynch mob fer performin' primitive brain surgery on victims in a psych ward, but when the mob went back the next day, his body was missin'. My brother draws customers a map o' the last place Dr. Satan was seen, but the map is just a ploy. 

When those folks go out searchin' fer Dr. Satan, they git kidnapped by the rest o' the family. My niece hitchhikes, her older brother RJ blows out folks tires with a shotgun, and then RJ uses his tow truck ta take the vehicle ta their house. Those folks go ta the house and wait while RJ fixes their tire, but they never leave. 

The family kidnaps and tortures those people ta literal death, and Happy Boy makes freaks fer my brother's museum out of 'em, along with a bunch o' other artwork. He even makes furniture outta their bones. Dr. Satan ain't a just a legend. His real name is S. Quentin Quale. What happened to 'im is a true story, but he's still alive. The family saved 'im, so sometimes they give 'im victims ta play with."

"Otis and Cutter vaguely mentioned some o' that shit in the car, but they didn't go in ta any real detail," I admitted. "Cutter said he owned a roadside attraction and talked about 'is fried chicken. That's why I fucked with 'im over chicken and waffles when I first got here. I even know about the other brother named Tiny and Gloria, Otis's mama."

Charlie grinned. "Ya did say they told ya shit ya didn't remember."

I winked.

"Anyway, Happy Boy is the worst out o' all of 'em, my niece Baby comin' in second place."

"Cutter's daughter?" I inquired.

"Yeah. Happy Boy...well, let's just say he does shit that'll prolly make ya sick, but I think ya deserve ta know." 

"Okay." I rubbed my hands together. "Tell me. I can handle it."

"Sometimes, he skins 'is victims and makes costumes. He's also rapes 'em and fucks their dead bodies when he needs a release," Charlie revealed. "He's an angry, dangerous, fucked up person."

"Oh...ohhhhh..." I uttered, gazing at the ceiling. 

"Somethin's clickin' in yer head. What the fuck else do ya know?"

"Well, Otis told me he ain't a nice man, that I shouldn't trust 'im. He said that several times, almost like he was tryin' ta embed it in ta my brain. Now I know why he told me that. He also said he was a sadist but wouldn't gimme any details."

"They're a family o' killers is what they are," Charlie stated. "Does that bother ya?"

"Ehh..." I clicked my tongue. "I mean, fuckin' dead bodies ain't my thing, but what Otis does at home b'hind closed doors ain't my business. What any of 'em do ain't my business. It certainly don't scare me or make me sick. The world's full o' all kinds o' people who do weird shit ta git their rocks off, includin' me."

"But does it _bother_ you?" Charlie pressed.

I shrugged. "Not really. It's not much different than what I do with animals."

He disagreed immensely. "But it_ is_ different, baby! They do that shit ta _people_, and Happy Boy rapes victims and fucks dead bodies! There's a God damn name fer that! It's called necrophilia!"

I nodded. "I know what it is, boss. Honestly, I can't say I'm shocked. Otis's eyes...sometimes they hold animosity and hellfire. As long as he doesn't try ta hurt or rape me..." I tapped my chest. "...then I don't care what the fuck he does. I like 'im. He likes me. We care fer each other. You and I both know that. I can't just..." I shook my head. "...turn that off. I accept 'im fer who he is. I can't change 'im, and I don't want to. I like 'im just the way he is. _And_ I still trust 'im. He could o' hurt or raped me at any time and he didn't. He was nothin' but gentle with me and took care o' me. 

Why he and Cutter decided ta help me when they've killed others, I dunno. They could o' just lemme die or killed me, too. Why Otis rapes 'is victims but felt sorry fer me is beyond my comprehension, but I ain't complainin'. And I already knew they were killers cuz Cutter shot Marquis in the head and wasn't even affected by it; neither was Otis. It was a normal thing to 'em."

"Fuck, yer a real special one," Charlie marveled. "Any other woman would o' ran fer the fuckin' hills after I told 'em all that shit. Does Happy Boy know 'bout yer lil hobby?"

I rolled a shoulder forward. "I don't think so. Unless he saw somethin' in my closet when he was gatherin' my things t'gether. That's a possibility. It didn't cross my mind at the time. I was too fucked up from the concussion and not thinkin' straight."

"He prolly did see somethin', which explains a lot."

I tilted my head. "Does it?"

"Yeah. He knows yer like them," Charlie pointed out. "Most importantly, he knows yer like _him_. Happy Boy puts shit in jars, too. My brother's museum is full o' that shit."

"But if he does know, he didn't b'fore he told Cutter they were bringin' me here."

"That just strengthened 'is determination ta git ya here. Trust me," he insisted. "My brother told me how they argued over it, how he said I wouldn't wanna deal with ya, but Happy Boy demanded that ya be brought here."

"Yeah, they did fight, but that was b'fore Otis was in my apartment." I giggled. "I swear that's all those two do is fuckin' fight." 

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, well, Happy Boy argues with everyone."

"Not me."

He smirked. "That's cuz he's sweet on ya, baby."

I smiled. "Maybe so. Has Otis ever raped anyone here?"

"No. He's never acted indecently toward any o' my bitches," Charlie said.

"Well, then..." I shrugged. "I don't care what he does at home."

He grunted.

"So what do ya think?" I asked.

Charlie's eyebrows pinched together. "Bout what?"

"My lil hobby."

"Oh, right. I fergot that's how this conversation got started in the first place." He strummed his salt and pepper beard. "Well, if I let ya do that..." he chewed his lip. "Animals don't come inside the walls except fer vultures and other birds. You ain't allowed ta leave unless I say so, and I don't want ya out in the desert alone. It's dangerous. There're coyotes and big cats wanderin' around. I also don't want others knowin' what the fuck yer up to. I'd have ta git someone ta go out with ya, or they'd have ta capture somethin' and bring it back fer ya."

"As long as it's still alive, I'm-"

Charlie's radio crackled. 

"Bubba, over!"

Charlie held up his finger to signal we weren't finished with our discussion and snatched up his walkie talkie. "What the fuck's goin' on?"

"Barnes was passed out in the back o' the buildin'. He's drunk as a skunk off hooch. He smashed two guards over the head with glass jars while they were patrolin' and drug 'em inside," Bubba reported. 

"They still alive?"

"Yes."

"So ya mean ta tell me, not only did that motherfucker steal from me, but he hurt two o' my God damn employees?!" Charlie snarled.

"Affirmative, boss."

"That no good motherfuckin' bastard! Clevon!" he shouted.

Clevon spoke over the radio. "Yes, sir?"

"Fuckin' git rid of 'im," Charlie said in an icy tone, his eyes flashing.

"Okay, boss."

"Report back once it's done," Charlie grumbled.

"Yes, sir."

"Boss out." Gritting his teeth, he slammed the radio down on his desk and released a frustrated growl. "God fuckin' damn it!"

"Sorry, boss," I said under my breath.

"This ain't yer fault, baby. I wouldn't've even known 'bout it if it weren't fer you."

"Uhh, actually, once those guards woke up-"

"It would o' been a real fuckin' shit show. I'm glad it happened this way. Shit was quiet."

I nodded. "Yeah."

Charlie scrubbed a hand over his face and through his beard. "I hate givin' the order ta execute a motherfucker. That ain't my thing, but sometimes it's necessary. I need a fuckin' massage."

"I can do that," I offered.

"Yeah, c'mere." He waved me over. 

Hopping up, I moved around Charlie's desk. Stepping up behind him, I kneaded his shoulders and the back of his neck. Groaning, he melted under my skilled touch.

"That's good, baby." He exhaled heavily. "You got magic hands, ya know that?"

I grinned smugly. "Been told that b'fore."

"I don't understand why Barnes did this shit. It don't make no fuckin' sense." Charlie banged his fist on the desk. "It ain't like those guards wouldn't wake the fuck up and take control."

"Sometimes alcohol makes folks do weird shit," I pondered. "And if he did this, he's prolly been stealin' from ya fer a while. He's prolly turned into an alcoholic and had some kinda hallucination or delusional episode; maybe even delirium. I had an uncle like that. He did some wild shit."

"That's true, baby. That very well could be. Yer smart, ya know that."

"Yeah, I know. You alright, boss?"

"Yeah." Charlie patted my hand. "I'll let ya have yer lil hobby, but only cuz you were honest. We'll figure out how we're gonna do this t'night after supper. We'll sit down and have us a detailed talk. I can get formaldehyde from my doctor friend, no problem."

"Yes!" I squealed. Hugging him from behind, I gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you. Yer the best."

"Yeah, yeah," he breathed, rolling his eyes.

"I love you, boss," I said genuinely.

"Fuckin' suck up." Snickering, Charlie squeezed my hand. "Nah, I'm just playin'. I love ya, too, baby."

His radio fizzled. "Clevon, over."

Charlie picked it up. "Go 'head."

"It's done."

"You know what ta do. Send Bubba up here with me."

"Yes, sir. Clevon out."

Charlie set the walkie talkie down. "Cherry, baby, I gotta finish countin' this cash. Let's talk later."

"Okay, boss."

That was my cue to leave. I didn't ask any questions about what Clevon had to do. That was none of my business. Sauntering over to the door, I opened it. As I stepped out into the main room, Charlie called my name. 

I looked over my shoulder. "Yeah, boss?"

"Thanks, baby." He blew me a kiss.

I smiled. "Any time."

Charlie put his glasses on and resumed working. I wandered through the main room and into the dining room. Candy was sitting at the table eating and sneered. Snorting, I flipped her off. Her hatred for me was amusing.

_'That dumb cunt is in fer a big fuckin' surprise once Otis comes back and wants nothin' ta do with her bitchy ass,'_ I thought, Grinning devilishly, I continued into the kitchen for a snack.


	9. Chapter 9

Two weeks after my discussion with Charlie about how we would handle my hobby, I was in my bathroom. I had just finished showering. Dressing in a silk black negligee with spaghetti straps which barely covered my ass, I towel dried my hair and combed it. 

I didn't bother to put on panties. I never wore underwear unless I was menstruating, and my cycle wasn't due for another week. All undergarments did was get in my way while I worked.

Just as I finished brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth, my bedroom door opened and closed. My entire body began to buzz. It was like a switch flipped inside me and my soul was vibrating. I felt a strange magnetic pull towards my bedroom, almost like a homing beacon, and my breath hitched.

_'What the hell?'_ I thought.

Charlie was the only person who had been in my bedroom besides Otis and Clevon when I had first arrived at the _Fun House_, and he always knocked. I glanced in my bathroom mirror but no one was visible.

"Boss, that better be you!" I hollered. 

"Just me, mama. I'm takin' off my boots," came the calm reply. 

My eyes widened, my heart rate increased tenfold, and butterflies spawned to life in my gut instantaneously. Only one person had ever called me mama. 

Turning off the sink faucet, I whirled around just as Otis appeared in the bathroom doorway. He bit his lip, his fiery blue eyes scanning every inch of my body. The strange fluctuations inside of me grew stronger, and I realized I had been bombarded with sensations because I had recognized his energy when he had entered my bedroom.

"I see ya got yerself somethin' ta wear other than red," he said softly, gesturing to my negligee. "Did ya buy that fer me?"

Swallowing noisily around the knot in my throat, I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't. Instead, I nodded. I had indeed bought it while thinking of him.

"Did ya know I was comin'? Judgin' by the look on yer face, ya didn't," he assumed.

Shaking my head, I absorbed Otis's dingy _Red Hot Pussy Liquors_ tank top and black cargo pants. His shirt clung to his lean form, and his pants were ripped at the knees and several other places in the thigh area. His legs were much paler than the rest of him and covered in dark hair, which was unique since the hair on his head was blonde. His beard and mustache were the same color as the fuzz on his legs, save for the few spots of gray which had begun to pepper in. That blew me away. His facial hair had been completely dark the last time I had seen him. He had only been gray around his temples.

The unusual thing about Otis's pants was they had a drawstring instead of a zipper and button. I had never seen pants that secured like that before. The way they fastened reminded me of tied shoelaces. They were so loose on his hips, the only thing holding them up was a belt, and his sex lines and happy trail were visible. There was also a noticeable bulge in the crotch area. I wasn't sure if he was half hard or that was natural.

My missing libido resurfaced immediately, overcoming any rational thoughts I had left. The room spun from the intensity of his aura and the return of my sex drive. My knees turned to jello, and I had no choice but to brace myself against the sink. 

Otis tilted his head, his concerned eyes probing my soul. "You ain't said a fuckin' word. Ya just keep starin' at me. Are ya alright?"

"I, uhh, umm...y-" I stopped trying to speak and took a deep breath. My vision turned even hazier than it already was. Black spots invaded my sight and my ears rang. "I need ta si..." 

As I lost my footing, Otis lept forward and caught me under my arms. "Shit, fuck! Woah, mama!" Wrapping a firm arm around my backside, he clutched my bare ass and gently lifted me onto the sink. Stepping between my open knees, he cradled my head as it lolled and snapped his fingers. "Hey, Cherry! Fuckin' look at me!"

The white bathroom ceiling slowly came back into focus. As my depth perception cleared, I gripped his shoulders and fixated on his damp lips, which were only inches away from my own. "I'm alright. I just...I dunno what the fuck just happened." In fact, I didn't know how to tell him what I had experienced or if I even should.

"Are ya still havin' dizzy spells?" he demanded to know, his voice distressed. "Cuz if yer still havin' concussion symptoms and that fuckin' nutsack-"

"N-no. I'm fine," I assured. Submerging my fingers into his beard, I stroked his jaw. "I'm completely healed, just a little shocked is all. I didn't know you were comin'. The boss didn't mention it."

The hellfire in Otis's eyes receded. Leaning into my touch, he sighed. "He said he wasn't gonna tell ya, that he thought it would be a nice surprise."

"It is," I gushed. 

Leaning forward, I embraced Otis's waist and buried my face in his lean chest. He closed his arms around me snugly and rested his cheek on top of my head. That familiar farm smell overloaded my senses, and I felt like I was where I belonged for the first time in my whole life. Without warning, tears filled my eyes and spilled over.

"Hey," Otis whispered. "My shirt...it's damp. Are ya cryin'?"

Unable to reply with words, I nodded. 

"Why?"

I shrugged, but I _did_ know why. Relief had overwhelmed me. I had been miserable and empty without him. Now he was here, occupying the same space. His energy had made my soul whole again. 

Exhaling heavily, he glided his hand up and down my back. I sobbed quietly until I regained control of my emotions. Neither one of us spoke until my shoulders stopped shaking. 

"Lemme look at ya, mama. I wanna see yer scars," Otis insisted.

Sniffling, I straightened up. Lifting my chin, he angled my face toward the light. I stared at his mouth as he traced the scars on my eyebrow and temple. His worried eyes pierced mine momentarily as he immersed his fingertips into my hair and felt along my scalp. Locating the long scar, he flipped my hair over to take a look.

"I'm fine," I reassured. "I really am."

"Yeah, yer scars look good. They'll fade over time. I swear, ya don't even look like the same fuckin' girl," Otis claimed, returning my hair back to the way it was. 

"No?"

"Yer way more gorgeous than I thought ya were." Otis cupped my face in both hands and wiped the dampness from my cheeks with his rough thumbs. 

I smiled, my heart melting. Lowering his mouth to mine, he pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. Electricity zapped through my entire body, and our energies briefly mingled. I gasped. He took the opportunity to dart his tongue inside my open mouth and caress my own. He tasted incredibly sweet, like cola and strawberry licorice. As difficult as it was, I pulled back and placed a finger over his lips.

"Otis, wait," I murmured, swallowing down the little bit of slobber from his mouth.

"What?" he grumbled, his eyebrows drawing together. Sucking my fingertip into his mouth, he swirled his tongue around it. 

"Jesus..." I said in a shaky voice. My clit pulsed and wetness oozed out of my core. "Charlie's rules; I can't kiss clients, and they can't touch my intimate areas."

"I know what that fuckin' nutsack's rules are!" Otis snarled, his eyes flashing. The hellfire had returned. "Fuck his rules! You been lookin' at my God damn mouth since I walked in here! You wanna kiss me! I wanna kiss you! You fuckin' want me and I want you! I know I can ask and pay fer special favors, too!"

"I know that, but-"

He dug in his pocket and yanked out a $100 bill. "How much is it gonna cost fer you ta lemme kiss ya? I'm here fer two God damn days!"

I shook my head briskly. "You don't understand. Just list-"

"No, _you_ listen!" Otis barked. "How long's it been since a man kissed ya? Like, really fuckin' kissed ya?" He plucked more money out of his pocket and slammed it down on the sink.

"I dunno," I mumbled. "Prolly since I was like 16 and had a real boyfriend."

"I'll pay ya whatever the fuck ya want. Just gimme some sugar, baby. _Please,_" he begged, reaching into his pocket a third time. 

"No!" I grasped his wrist. "Stop it! I won't take yer fuckin' money, Otis! I'll never take yer money! I can't! You and Cutter saved my life!" Swiping the cash from the sink, I shoved it back in his pocket.

"Then I ain't a client, am I?" he pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "What are ya gonna tell Charlie? He's gonna expect payment."

"I'll figure that out later. Is there somethin' special ya want from the _Fun House_ menu?"

"Fuck the God damn menu!" Otis shouted, the fire in his eyes brighter than ever. "I don't want this ta be about just _me_! I want you ta feel good, too! I want ya ta participate in more ways than just doin' yer God damn job! I want shit ta be spontaneous! You said in the car when me and Cutter were bringin' ya here that ya hadn't fucked fer enjoyment in years! You tell me, when was the last time a man made ya cum or ate yer pussy? Can ya answer that question?!"

"I dunno; I really don't. Please stop yellin'," I implored, tucking hair behind his ear. "Yer hurtin' my feelin's."

"Shit, fuck!" he huffed, his nostrils flaring. "I'm sorry. I'm just so God damn frustrated!" Holding up his hand, he clenched his fist until his knuckles were white. "I want ya _so_ fuckin' bad. I know ya want me, too. We've wanted each other since me and Cutter found ya. Yer all I fuckin' think about. I dream about ya at night. I walk around with a hard fuckin' dick all the God damn time. In the last two months, I've jerked off prolly three or more times a day just ta git it ta go down. I can't take this shit no more! I'm losin' my fuckin' mind! I fuckin' _need_ you!" 

"Okay, baby. Just relax." Prying his fist apart, I laced my fingers with his. "Just breathe. I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere." 

Throwing his head back, Otis released a guttural growl. Sliding my free hand behind his neck, I traced his hairline and massaged the back of his scalp. The tension in his body melted away instantly. Stepping closer, he clutched my hips.

"I need ya, too," I said softly. "Charlie can never know about this. Never, _ever_. Ya understand? I was tryin' ta tell ya this earlier, but ya wouldn't listen. You just flew off the fuckin' handle."

Otis closed his eyes and hung his head. "I'm sorry. I got a bad fuckin' temper. I know I do. I ain't tryin' ta hurt ya. That's the last fuckin' thing I want."

"Don't worry about it. It's okay. Look at me."

Chewing his bottom lip, he complied.

"We gotta pretend like this is a normal prostitute/client relationship. Charlie can never see us kiss or touch in an intimate way. Swear ta me that this shit stays b'tween us."

Otis nodded.

"Say it!" I demanded.

"I swear. He'll never fuckin' know," he promised.

Taking my face in his hands, Otis kissed me gently and ran the tip of his tongue over the seam of my lips. I opened my mouth to him, and he curled his tongue around mine. Something shifted inside me and the world stopped. Like before, our energies intertwined. My whole body tingled, a wildfire igniting inside me I had never felt before. The lightheadedness I had encountered when he had first entered my bedroom returned full force.

Scooting closer, I clenched my thighs around his hips and pressed my chest against his. Our mouths flowed together easily, our hearts beating at the same rhythm. We had the same kissing style. It was almost as if I was making out with myself. It was the longest, most sensual kiss of my entire life. 

Breaking our kiss to suck in oxygen, Otis stared into my soul. "What the fuck was that? That was just like in my God damn dreams."

"I dunno," I panted. Remembering how I had I awakened in the middle of the night and felt the lingering effects of his presence, I blurted, "Did we fuck in yer dreams?"

Otis shook his head. "No. Why?" 

"This is gonna sound crazy, but you've been in my dreams, too. I wake up in the middle o' the night feelin'...I dunno, like yer mouth and hands are still on my body, but my pussy always remains untouched. I'm all sweaty but covered in goosebumps at the same time."

"That don't sound crazy; that's exactly how it feels. We never fucked cuz somehow I knew ya weren't ready, that it wasn't what ya needed. We kissed and touched each other plenty, but shit never went any further than that."

"There's somethin' else," I added hurriedly. "Durin' the day, I hear ya in my head. I feel emotions that ain't mine."

"Yeah, me too. I thought I was goin' nuts. Glad ta know I ain't." Otis snickered. "I'm crazy enough already."

"So we've been communicatin' telepathically?" I pondered. "How's that possible?"

His eyebrows scrunched, his forehead puckering. "I dunno. I don't give a fuck. I just know it feels _right; _like it's s'pposed ta be that way_._"

"It's some next level shit. It's also scary as fuck."

Chuckling, Otis nodded and wrapped his arms around me. "Yeah, I'll give ya that. Let's not think about that part. Let's just..."

Kissing me again, Otis prodded my lips with his insistent tongue. Opening my mouth to him, I slid my hands up the back of his shirt and caressed his bare flesh. Shivering, he slithered his tongue around mine. Our first kiss had been passionate, but this one was made from an inferno. 

Like a snake mesmerized by its charmer, I fell limp in his arms. With clients, I was the dominant one; but for once, Otis was the one in control. I knew I would never control him unless that was what he wanted. Even then, he would have to grant me permission.

Pulling his mouth from mine, he licked his lips. "What do ya like?" 

"What?" I muttered, still hypnotized.

"What. Do. You. Like." Otis tapped my chest with every word, his eyes skimming my ample cleavage.

"I don't really care. I trust ya."

"C'mon, mama. Ya gotta have some kinda preference." He snickered. "And I keep tellin' ya not ta trust me, that I ain't a nice man."

"Yeah, and I know why ya said that. Charlie told me everythin'. I know about yer family, what y'all do. I know what _you_ do with yer victims. I know about the rapes and the necrophilia."

"What?!" Otis roared, the hellfire in his eyes igniting. He scampered backward into the bathroom entrance as if he had been wounded and cornered. "I'm gonna _kill_ that motherfucker!" 

As he spun around and marched forward, I hopped off the sink. Reaching out, I grabbed his arm and yanked back.

"Otis, wait!" I screeched. "Don't go!"

He halted but didn't face me. His shoulders bobbed with each erratic breath he took. Fury radiated off of him like a volcano that was about to erupt.

"I don't care what ya do at home! That shit ain't none o' my fuckin' business! Ya've never done any o' that shit ta me, and I'm confident ya never will!"

Otis whirled around, his fiery eyes holding honesty. "Yer right. I won't. I would never fuckin' hurt you, not _ever_!" He sliced his hand through the air for added emphasis.

I blew out a puff of air and clasped his hands. "Ya gotta stop flyin' off the handle when I'm tellin' ya shit. Charlie and I, he's much more than just my boss. He's b'come my friend. He considers me family. He told me about y'all cuz he knows I can be trusted and he thought I deserved ta know. It's in my contract that whatever he tells me can't be repeated, but I'm tellin' ya I know 'bout y'all fer a reason. C'mere. I wanna show ya somethin'."

I tugged him into my bedroom and over to the closet. Opening the door, I pointed to the shelf containing the collection of one jar of organs, animal bones, and skins I had started. I hadn't created any art yet, but I had some ideas rolling around in my head.

"We ain't much different," I stated, turning to face him. "I'm a sadist, too. I torture and kill animals, you torture and kill people. I'm an artist, so are you. We just do shit in different ways."

Otis exhaled heavily, his visage showing no sign of shock. "I know. When I was baggin' yer shit up in Dallas, I saw some shit in yer closet. It made me like ya more than I already did. It's the only reason I told ya I was a sadist last time I was here."

"I figured that out after Charlie told me everythin'. I knew ya had ta have seen somethin'. I just wasn't thinkin' clearly at the time cuz o' the concussion. Rapin' and murderin', creatin' art out o' yer victims, makin' the freaks fer Cutter's lil horror museum, the necrophilia..." I shrugged. "Folks do all kinds o' weird shit ta git their rocks off. That's just _yer_ way, and I'm alright with it. I accept it. I accept _you_. I can't change you, and I don't wanna. I like ya fer who you are, Otis. I can't help it. We have a weird connection. There's no denyin' that."

"No, there ain't," he agreed. "I knew ya were special, but I never expected fer ya ta accept the rapes; especially after what happened to ya, and I certainly never expected fer ya ta be alright with my necrophilia. I mean, what sane person would be alright with that?"

Laughing softly, I closed my closet door. "Well, I ain't exactly sane. Look at what I do fer a hobby. Remember when I said I felt like I knew you?"

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes glimmering. "Yeah."

"I did. I still do. I saw myself in you. I just didn't know it yet."

Grunting, Otis groped for me. Drawn to the passion in his eyes like a moth to a flame, I moved into his warm embrace and closed my arms around his neck. Our lips met in the middle for a juicy kiss, our tongues tangling together. I felt as if I was levitating, and then, I was. 

Without breaking our kiss, Otis lifted me by my ass. I closed my thighs around his waist, and he carried me to the bed. Lying me down gently, he hovered over top of me. He threaded his hand into my hair and nibbled my bottom lip, his scruff tickling my skin. His hot groin settled into the crook of my thigh, hardening more and more by the second. Grinding into me, he groaned. His free hand squeezed my breast, pinching my nipple through the silky material of my negligee.

As I released a low moan, he delved the tip of his tongue into my mouth and swirled it around mine. His cola and strawberry licorice taste saturated my tastebuds, and I couldn't get enough. Intertwining my hands in his long hair, I kissed him back with urgent need. I craved for his cock to be inside of me. He was so close, yet still so far away. Cradling his hips with my thighs, I did my best to reposition his groin over top of my own.

Taking a ragged breath, Otis slid his hand under the curve of my naked ass. I removed a hand from his hair and gripped the hem of his shirt. As I raised it up his back, he broke the kiss and gazed down at me. His pupils were blown so wide, the blue of his irises was almost completely gone. He was telepathically asking for my permission to go farther. I nodded slightly.

"Take off yer clothes," I whispered. "Take 'em all off. I want yer skin on my skin. I want yer cock inside me."

Pushing to his knees without resolve, Otis tugged his shirt over his head. I hadn't noticed in Dallas, probably because of the concussion, but he had a flying skull tattoo in the middle of his chest. He also had prominent pecs and abs, but they weren't overly muscular or thick. Just like the rest of him, they were lean. The farm work he did kept him in excellent shape.

Sitting up, I traced the tattoo and slid my fingertip down Otis's abs and through his happy trail. Goosebumps prickled his flesh, and he tossed his shirt aside. He looked down as I reached for his belt buckle, watching intently as I unfastened it and untied his pants. They slipped down his hips, revealing his erection as it strained against the cotton material and elastic band of his tight whitey's. Jamming a hand into his pocket, he retrieved a fistful of condoms. I took them and sat them on the nightstand, then lifted my negligee over my head.

Otis stopped breathing, his chest turning as stiff as a corpse's. He gawked at my naked form, his glittery eyes drinking in as much of me as he could.

"Oxygen, baby," I reminded him, dropping my lingerie on the floor.

Sucking in a much-needed breath, he freed his weeping hard cock and fuzzy balls. He was just as large as I thought he would be. All lanky men had big cocks, but he had length and girth and abundant dark pubic hair. Plopping on his ass, he removed the rest of his clothing and pushed it to the floor. One glance into his soul was all it took. I knew what he wanted me to do.

Grasping Otis's shoulders, I scooted between his open thighs and placed my feet flat on the bed behind him. I wasn't going to ride him. We were going to fuck sitting up. 

We wrapped our arms around each other, our heated flesh smashing together. Holding my head in his large hand, he kissed down my jaw. His facial hair scratched my skin, lighting up my flesh with goosebumps. As I shifted my hips, his cock brushed my dripping entrance.

"Shit, fuuuck..." he husked in my ear. "Fuck, yer wet. God damn it..."

It was the hottest thing to ever come out of his mouth, and it set my body on fire. Moaning, I rubbed my soaked pussy lips against his hard length. My heart was in danger of beating out of my chest, yet it still matched his rhythm.

Otis ran his tongue around the outline of my ear and sucked on my earlobe. Leaving a trail of kisses down my neck and over my collarbone, he fisted my hair and yanked my head back. Those fiery blue eyes of his studied mine momentarily, searching for what I desired.

_'I wanna be kissed like I've never been kissed b'fore,'_ I thought.

The words,_ 'I gotcha, mama,'_ echoed in my head.

Gathering my face in his rough hands, Otis sucked on my lips and pushed his tongue into my slack mouth. His sugary taste made my head spin and stole my breath all at the same time. His deep kiss showed me that every other kiss I had received in the past was wrong.

Exploring my mouth, Otis extended his arm. Fumbling around on the nightstand, he searched for a condom. My fingertips caressed his spine. He shuddered so violently, his lips trembled against mine. Desperate for him to be inside of me, I allowed the head of his cock to sink inside my opening. Raking my nails down his back, I couldn't stop the moan that vibrated in my throat.

Growling lowly, he ripped his mouth from mine and murmured, "Wait, mama. As much as I'd love ta fuck ya with my bare cock, we don't want no babies."

Nodding, I brushed Otis's hair back. He withdrew his cock, and I whimpered at the loss. Finally, he located a condom and snatched it up. Taking it from him, I ripped open the foil package, pulled out the rubber and carelessly tossed the empty casing aside.

Reaching between us, I gripped Otis's cock and rolled the condom down his length. My touch affected him instantly. Throwing his head back, he moaned my name. I took the opportunity to kiss over his hairy throat and bite down on his collar bone, my fingertips silhouetting his sex lines. His skin tasted sweet, yet there was a slight saltiness from perspiring in the desert heat. 

His natural pheromones wafted up my nostrils. They were an added aphrodisiac. Inhaling his earthy scent of hay, grass and farm grain, I smoothed over the fresh bite mark on his collarbone with my tongue. I hadn't bit him hard enough to mark him.

Baring his teeth, Otis clutched my ass and forced his cock inside my opening. I cried out, chills running up and down my spine. Hooking my hands under his arms, I clawed his upper back. Grunting loudly, he sunk inside me the rest of the way. Both of us stilled while I adjusted to his size.

"Shit, fuck, yer tight," he panted. "And fuckin' slippery as hell. Yer pussy fits around my cock like-"

I cut Otis off with a hungry kiss. He didn't need to voice how we joined because I already knew. We fit together like two missing puzzle pieces who had finally found each other. It was as if our souls had melded and we had disappeared inside of each other. Every emotion and sensation we shared was magnified by a thousandfold.

At first, our union was hot and slow. Otis's hips moved in harmony with my own. Between sloppy, frenzied kisses, our eyes penetrated each other's souls. One of his hands stayed on my ass, helping to guide my hips. The other caressed the shape of my body, rolled my nipples, and strummed my clit. My hands were everywhere, touching his hair, his beard, every single inch of his lean body I could consume. I wanted more, but there was no more of him to ingest. I had all of him, yet it wasn't enough.

And the noises we made. The mewls, groans, whimpers, and grunts; the incoherent words, the sliding of flesh against flesh, the suction from our kisses, the wet sounds of our groins gliding together...those sounds just fueled the intense burning inside of us. And the way Otis's face scrunched and the moans that rumbled deep in his chest when I caressed him in a spot that felt extra sensual. That was the hottest thing I had ever seen or heard.

I had never experienced sex like this before, and I knew I never would again. This was Heaven on Earth. This was a spiritual reuniting of souls who had been lost and finally found each other again. We were in a state of instinctual nirvana. I had my own pleasure to contend with, yet I could feel his as well. We were drowning in each other's passion. This was the most erotic experience of my life.

Otis fisted my hair and yanked my head back so he could access my neck. He licked, sucked, and bit gently, careful not to leave any marks or hickeys. Without separating our hips, I pushed him down on his back. He continued to suck on my neck until I pressed on his chest. As I straightened up, he clutched my hips. 

"That'a girl," he coaxed softly, thrusting up into me. "Show me how much ya want me." 

Otis had given me permission to take him. I took my sweet time fucking him, using his cock to massage sensitive spots deep inside of my pussy which hadn't been touched in God knows how long. His cock stretched my orifice to capacity, and I took advantage of that. I pleasured myself as if I was using his cock as a dildo, and he loved it. It was what he had desired from the beginning; for me to participate in ways other than just doing my job, and now he had been granted that wish. 

He seemed to understand my body and what I needed. I didn't have to say anything or direct him in any way. He gritted his teeth, clutched my ass, and helped me bang the fuck out of him. I occasionally clawed his chest, leaving scratches, but he liked it. He grunted and his face scrunched every time my nails burrowed into his skin.

The heat in my gut churned and coiled. My orgasm was quickly approaching and I chased it down desperately. As my walls fluttered around him, he pursued his own release. 

"I wanna cum t'gether," Otis panted, snapping his hips up into mine. "Don't you dare fuckin' cum without me."

Leaning down, I pressed my chest to his and rammed my tongue in his mouth. Weaving my hands into his hair, I rubbed my hard nipples against his and thought I would die from bliss. Moaning into his mouth, I jammed my pelvic bone against his to stimulate my clit. He groaned and clenched my ass so firmly he would leave handprint bruises, and drove his cock into my chasm harder and harder with each thrust. I met him push for pull, whining as my inner walls quivered.

Gazing into the inferno of his soul, I repeated his name in my head. My name echoed along with his as he stared back. We didn't have to say we were going to cum. Lacing my fingers with one of his hands, I squeezed. With our souls and bodies wrapped together as one, our nether regions throbbed and convulsed.

"Fuuuckk..." I moaned, my back arching.

"Shit, fuck..." Otis spat through gritted teeth. 

It was the most intense, longest orgasm of my life. Wave after wave of pleasure rolled through my entire body. My release soaked his lap, and he filled up the condom with his seed. I crumpled on top of him, an overheated, sweaty mess.

We caught our breath and kissed tenderly as we came down from our orgasmic high, then he rolled us on our sides. Withdrawing his cock from my pussy, he removed the condom and tossed it into the trashcan between the bed and the nightstand.

"God damn," Otis muttered.

"I feel weak," I murmured.

He responded with a soft grunt. Still trembling from our intense climaxes, we huddled together. We caressed each other's bodies and kissed for probably 5 minutes until his relaxed state transformed and fear radiated off of him. 

"I need a drink," Otis blurted. 

Jumping up like he was lying on hot coals, he grabbed his clothes from the floor. He yanked his pants on without bothering to put on his drawers. Tugging on his shirt, he scurried from the room barefoot, slamming the door behind him. 

I was left in a stupor, wondering what the hell had just happened. I had just had the best sex of my life with him, and he had vanished. I would be lying if I said his sudden disappearance didn't shatter my heart. What had just happened between us was nothing short of inconceivable. The only thing I could come up with was our spiritual union had freaked him out.

I hopped up and stumbled into the bathroom to clean away the rubber condom scent from between my legs. I hated that smell and always washed it away as soon as I possibly could. 

Turning on the faucet, I climbed into the tub and used a washcloth to clean my intimate areas. Once I was finished washing away the smell of sex, I turned off the water and stepped out. Drying off, I returned to my bedroom and pulled on my negligee. 

After brushing my knotty hair, I paced on rubbery legs. Otis hadn't returned, so I exited my bedroom to search for him. He had claimed he needed a drink so I bounced down the steps and dashed toward the bar. When I entered he wasn't there, but Charlie and Cutter were. They both tossed me confused looks from over top of their lines of cocaine.

"What the fuck happened up there?" Cutter demanded to know, setting down his straw. "My boy is actin' off. He don't got no socks on and his God damn pants are fallin' off. He just swiped a bottle o' whiskey and bolted. I tried ta talk to 'im, but he wouldn't speak. It's like he's mute or a deer stuck in fuckin' headlights or some shit."

"I dunno," I lied, showing them my best poker face. "One minute he was fine, the next he wasn't. He said somethin' 'bout needin' a drink and..." I shrugged. "...well, here I am."

"He went that way, baby." Charlie pointed toward the front of the building.

"Thanks, boss." Turning on my heel, I mosied out of the bar and into the main room. 

"That don't even look like the same God damn girl," Cutter marveled. "I hardly recognized her."

"I know. The damaged girl y'all brought here blossomed and turned in ta a brick shithouse. She prolly blew Happy Boy's fuckin' top. I know she blew mine when I tried her out," Charlie said, snickering. "Cherry's the best girl I got now. Folks line up fer her."

Cutter released an obnoxious laugh. "Git the fuck outta here."

"What? I'm fuckin' serious! Ask any bitch I own! They're all pissed off cuz Cherry makes a lot more money than they do!"

As I neared the front doors, their conversation faded away. I recognized Otis's troubled energy immediately and followed his lingering vibration outside onto the front porch. He was lounging on the steps gawking at the desert night sky with his ass crack hanging out, whiskey bottle clutched in his hand. 

Candy was perched next to him, trying to talk to him. An icepick of jealousy stabbed my heart, but I ignored the unwelcome reaction. After all, Otis wasn't mine and could hang around whatever whore he wanted.

"Otis, come on. Talk ta me," Candy pleaded. "What's wrong?"

Otis didn't answer. In fact, he didn't acknowledge her presence at all. It was as if she was a ghost he couldn't see or hear.

"He just wants ta be left alone," I said softly. "He needs space. That's all."

Candy glared at me over her shoulder. "What the fuck did ya do ta him?"

"I didn't do shit ta him!" I snarled, losing my cool. "Shut the fuck up and git the fuck outta here! This ain't yer fuckin' business!"

"Fuck you, bitch!" Candy snarked. 

Turning back to Otis, she laid her hand on his shoulder. I crossed my arms and didn't say a word. I didn't have to. I knew he would handle it.

"You fuckin' heard her!" Otis roared, shaking out of her grasp. "Don't fuckin' touch me! And don't fuckin' talk ta Cherry like that ever again, or I'll cut you like a pig and make you eat yer own fuckin' intestines!"

Taken aback by his unforeseen furious outburst, Candy scampered away from him like a frightened little mouse. I didn't even flinch. Instead, I smirked. Her response was rather amusing. If she only knew who he really was, she would understand he was dead serious.

"Git the fuck inside and leave us!" Otis seethed, his fiery eyes shooting daggers.

Scrambling to her feet, she darted up the steps and through the swinging doors.

"Stupid fuckin' bitch!" he hissed.

"Otis?" I said calmly. I didn't want to approach him if he didn't want me to.

"Imma be alright, mama. I just needed a minute ta myself," he grumbled.

"Do ya want me ta leave ya alone?"

"No, sit," Otis insisted.

Plopping down behind him, I pulled all of his hair behind his back and smoothed it. It was extra knotty from our little fuckfest. Exhaling, he gulped whiskey and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. I wrapped my arms around him, pressed my chest against his back, and ran my hands over his chest.

"What the fuck just happened b'tween us?" he muttered, his voice shaky. "I dunno what the fuck that was. I don't feel those types o' things. I ain't that kinda man."

I rested my chin on his shoulder. "I dunno," I whispered in his ear. "But it happened, and it was fuckin' amazin' and beautiful and sacred."

"Yes," Otis lisped, not tearing his eyes from the desert. "Yes, it was."

"We don't have ta talk about it if ya don't wanna. We can just go upstairs and pretend like it never happened."

"But it _did_ happen, mama." Taking my hand in his, he tenderly kissed the back of it. Like before, my skin tingled from where his lips had touched me.

"We still don't gotta talk about it," I assured. Rubbing over his abs, I discovered the drawstring on his pants was loose, and his belt wasn't fastened. "You were in such a hurry ta git out, ya didn't even tie yer pants. Yer belt is undone, too."

"I freaked the fuck out," Otis admitted. "I'm always in control, but I wasn't this time. Neither one of us was. We were in control t'gether. I dunno how else ta explain it."

He turned his head to gaze at me, his thumb lightly stroking the skin on the back of my hand. He looked as if he had aged five years.

"That sounds about right," I said. "We had a spiritual connection. I heard ya in my head."

"Yeah," Otis breathed, facing the desert again. "I ain't never experienced anythin' like that b'fore in my 38 years on this planet. I don't think I'm s'pposed ta feel shit like that. I'm far too dark and twisted fer somethin' as good as what we shared. That was a fluke o' nature."

"No, it ain't and you are _not_ too dark. It happened, didn't it?" I pointed out.

"Yes, it did." Gulping down whiskey, he sighed.

"You gonna be alright?" I squeezed his hand, which still had ahold of mine.

"Yeah. Are you?" 

"I'm fine."

Otis focused his attention on me, his blue eyes holding softness. "I saw yer face when I ran like a fuckin' coward with my tail tucked b'tween my legs. I didn't mean ta hurt ya. I told ya I wouldn't and I did."

"Ssh," I hushed, scratching my nails through his happy trail. "I understand. You wanna go back upstairs?"

He swallowed noisily. "Yeah."

We stood together. Otis turned to face me. Since I was on the step above him, I was the same height as him. Staring into my eyes, he raised his hand to caress my cheek. He wanted to kiss me, but I couldn't allow that outside of a private room. Taking his hand, I tugged gently.

"C'mon," I said under my breath. "Save that kinda intimacy fer upstairs."

Nodding, Otis stepped up onto the porch. We closed our arms around each other and walked back inside as if nothing odd had happened and everything was normal.


	10. Chapter 10

"Oh, by the way, I got somethin' o' yers," I announced as I shut my bedroom door.

As Otis guzzled whiskey, his eyebrows drew together. Moving over to a pile of folded laundry on my dresser, I removed a few items from the top and set them aside. Scooping up his flannel, I turned and held it up.

"Oh, yeah. I left that b'hind on purpose," he admitted.

"Charlie thought ya might o'. He said it was one o' yer favorite shirts."

"Knowledgeable fuckin' bastard," Otis spat, rolling his eyes. "I hate that he knows me well enough ta realize that. It is one o' my favorites, but I knew I'd git it back. I left it cuz I knew I made ya feel safe. It had my smell on it. It was the closest thing I could do ta keep a part o' myself here without bein' here if ya know what I mean."

"Yeah." I nodded. "I slipped in ta a really dark place fer a while. What ya did helped me out a lot. Thank you."

Otis tipped his head. Swiveling toward the clean clothes, I refolded his flannel and set it on top of the pile. As I faced him, he stepped in front of me. His _Red Hot Pussy Liquors_ shirt was missing. He must have discarded it while my back was turned. I scanned his naked upper body, ingesting his flying skull tattoo and lean muscles. Licking my lips, I brushed my fingers through the small patch of hair in the middle of his chest.

"What kinda dark place?" Otis's quizzical blue eyes probed my own. "Tell me about it."

Holding out my hand, I silently asked for the whiskey bottle. If I was going to talk about that gloomy abyss, I needed a drink. He passed it wordlessly. Tilting the amber liquid into my mouth, I swallowed. The whiskey burned smoothly as it descended down my esophagus and into my stomach.

"Well..." I cleared my throat and heaved a deep breath. "After y'all left, Charlie came upstairs with me so I could bathe. You weren't here ta distract me anymore so the reality o' what happened hit me like a ton o' bricks." I took another long pull from the bottle. "I broke down in the tub."

"I warned 'im that would happen." Otis delicately traced the scar on my temple. 

Grasping the bottle, he took it from my hand. After drinking quite a bit of liquor, he set it on the dresser. I had gulped down enough whiskey for a light buzz, which was good enough for me. I had no desire to get plastered. 

"Charlie mentioned that." Placing my hands on his hips, I hooked my thumbs into the loose hem of his pants. "I spiraled into a deep depression and stayed in bed fer 'bout 2 weeks. I didn't get up unless I had to. I had constant flashbacks and nightmares. I felt dirty, ashamed, helpless, worthless, and like everythin' was my fault. I thought no one would ever want me again. If Cutter hadn't killed Marquis, I would o' done it myself."

A strange gleam appeared in Otis's eyes. I realized the glint had surfaced because I had divulged the urge to murder another human being. Running his fingertip down my jaw, he cupped it and caressed my cheek with his thumb. 

"Now, you listen and you listen real fuckin' good," he said firmly. "None o' that shit was yer fuckin' fault. Trust me, I know. I do what Slick did almost every fuckin' day. It's never the girl's fault. Although, I like fer 'em ta _think_ it is. I love ta fuck with their heads and break 'em."

I didn't acknowledge what he had said about his victims. It was as if the words had never come out of his mouth. Instead, I paid attention to his gentle touch. The inside of my chest turned warm and fuzzy, and those sensations weren't from the alcohol which pulsed through my veins.

"I was furious," I added. "I scrubbed my entire body until my skin was raw. Charlie had ta stop me. I've never felt so vulnerable in my whole fuckin' life. I hated that he saw me like that, but I was also grateful I wasn't alone. Once I stopped freakin' out, I was almost catatonic. He had to make me git outta the tub b'fore I got hypothermia. He had ta check on me and bring me food three times a day cuz I refused ta leave my room." 

Hellfire rose behind the sheen in Otis's blue eyes. "He better o' took real good fuckin' care o' ya or I'll-"

I rested my finger over his lips. "Stop," I said softly. "Remember what I said 'bout flyin' off the handle." 

The inferno in his eyes receded. Gripping my wrist, he kissed my finger tenderly. "Yer right. G'head."

"He took excellent care o' me. If it weren't fer Charlie, I wouldn't o' healed. And I ain't talkin' 'bout just physically; I mean mentally as well. You leavin' that shirt b'hind was a huge part o' my recovery. I clutched that shirt fer two weeks. I slept with it; I smelled it when I was scared outta my fuckin' mind and havin' panic attacks. Sometimes, I swear you were in that bed with me and yer arms were around me."

"Maybe I was, mama." Otis laid my hand over his heart. "You ever think o' that? We were t'gether in our dreams. We were in each other's heads durin' the day. We felt each other's emotions. Why wouldn't I o' been in yer bed, too?"

I blinked a few times as I contemplated his words. He was right. He _had_ been there.

Otis embraced me and nestled his cheek against the top of my head. Sighing, I wrapped my arms around him and closed my eyes. The warmth inside my chest expanded to the rest of my body. Pushing a hand down the back of his pants, I stroked his skin. The curve of his ass was as soft as a newborn baby's. He was such a guarded, hardworking man. It was hard to believe his skin was that supple anywhere on his body.

"I dunno what made ya give a fuck 'bout me, but I'm glad it happened," I murmured. "Accordin' ta Charlie, ya don't give a shit 'bout anyone but yer family."

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "He's right. I don't. Cutter busted my fuckin' balls over it the whole way back ta Ruggsville. Listenin' ta that fer all those hours 'bout made me fuckin' snap. I pulled a knife on 'im and threatened ta cut 'is God damn tongue out. He finally shut 'is fuckin' mouth."

I lifted my head to look at him. "Why do ya care 'bout me? What the hell made that happen? What the fuck's so special 'bout me that makes me different from everyone else?"

Otis shrugged, his eyes glittering. "I dunno. No matter how hard I try ta figure that shit out, I can't, and I can't turn that shit off, either. B'lieve me, I tried. Carin' 'bout someone other than my own family is a foreign fuckin' concept. I don't understand it and I don't think I ever fuckin' will."

I grunted. "Reckon I'll just count my lucky stars then."

"By the way, you were wrong about no one ever wantin' ya ever again. I wanted you," he reminded me. "All the folks who come to the _Fun House_ want you."

"All clients care 'bout is what I can give 'em. They don't give a fuck 'bout me as a person, and they certainly don't care if I git off. I felt tainted, contaminated, polluted. I felt like no one would want me because o' that; like I'd never be good enough fer another man who mattered ever again."

"Well, you _are_ good enough. Yer more than good enough. You were good enough then. Even though I freaked the fuck out earlier, I _still_ want you," Otis confessed, the shimmer in his eyes brightening. "You know I care if ya git off cuz I told ya so. Earlier, I made sure that happened. I let ya have yer way with me, too, and I don't fuckin' do that. I'm always in control, _always._ Yet, I let ya do what ya wanted. I give a fuck about yer feelin's, too. I wouldn't be askin' questions and listenin' ta yer answers if I didn't give a fuck about you as a person."

"I know that. Charlie even told me ya wanted me when I was rantin' and ravin' in the tub, but I refused ta b'lieve 'im," I said. "At the time, I couldn't. I heard 'im say the words, but it was like they went in one ear and out the other."

"Well, I know that fuckin' nutsack wanted ya too cuz he always fucks 'is bitches b'fore he sells 'em." 

His eyes flashed, his lips twisting into a deep scowl. Bitterness radiated from his energy and nearly suffocated me. He hated that I had been with Charlie, but he was aware it was necessary. I was relieved I wasn't the only one who had dealt with the green-eyed monster when we didn't belong to one another.

"That was different," I declared. "I approached Charlie first. I waited 'til I thought I was ready and could handle it. If it wasn't fer him, I prolly wouldn't be workin'. I went to 'im several times 'til I could git through sex acts without a problem. Then I moved on ta other employees like Clevon and Bubba. Once I was good with them, I started workin'. It was cuz o' Charlie's support that I healed. If it weren't fer him, I might not o' fucked ya today. I might still be lost in that bed."

Otis snorted. "I doubt that. I'm pretty sure we would o' fucked no matter what. It's what we've wanted since the beginnin'. If it wasn't Charlie who healed ya, it might o' been me." He kissed the corner of my mouth.

Thinking that over, I nodded. "Yer prolly right."

"I told ya you were strong," he stated. "You took it upon yerself ta go ta Charlie. I dunno how many other women would o' done that."

I released a breath. "I got sick o' feelin' sorry fer myself. I just wanted ta feel normal again, so I pushed fer that ta happen. And Charlie ain't Marquis; he's the total opposite o' that bastard."

"That's why I brought ya here," he said matter-of-factly. "I know he's the polar opposite o' Slick. I knew he would take care o' ya and he did."

I chuckled. "Ya also threatened ta kill 'im if he didn't."

Otis laughed. "Yeah, I did. I was fuckin' serious, too, and he knew it."

"How did ya know I was strong?" I inquired. "I've always been curious 'bout that."

"My victims," he said without reserve. "I always know when someone's gonna break or when they'll fight. It's the look in their fuckin' eyes, their mannerisms, their reactions ta whatever it is I'm doin' to 'em. You..." he tapped my chest. "...are a God damn fighter and always will be. If I captured you, I'd have a real problem on my fuckin' hands. Yer one o' the ones I'd have ta kill right away so I could have my way with ya."

"That's..." I rubbed my chin. "...interestin'. What makes ya rape someone? What makes ya wanna fuck a dead body?"

Otis raised an eyebrow. "You really wanna know?" 

I nodded. "Yeah. I wanna know what makes ya tick."

The strange gleam in Otis's eyes returned and intensified. "Alright, but I dunno if yer gonna like the answers."

"Tell me," I insisted. "I can handle it."

He leaned against the dresser and crossed his arms. "Rape goes with the sadism. I enjoy hurtin' people. I like watchin' 'em suffer. You know what that's all about since ya do that with animals."

I bobbed my head.

Otis snatched up the whiskey bottle and guzzled more alcohol. "It's all a game, every single bit of it. It's about power, control, lust, a test of strength, a need fer release. I get pent up with rage and need ta git that shit out. All my inner pain, my anxieties, my frustrations...I gotta let that shit go. I like ta brutalize, humiliate, and degrade my victims, make 'em feel worthless and powerless. Sometimes, it's an impulsive drive; other times, I have complete control. That depends on my mood or what sets me the fuck off." 

Grunting, I hooked my fingers in the hem of his pants. He gulped down more whiskey before continuing.

"The necrophilia is about havin' somethin' ta fuck other than my hand. A cadaver will do exactly what I fuckin' want without a struggle; sorta like a sex slave, but I don't gotta deal with any form o' rejection. There's no emotional or social work involved at all. I can sleep next to a dead body and hold it without bein' pushed away. It's convenient."

_'Oh my fuck, someone has truly hurt this man. Someone broke 'is soul,'_ I thought. 

A pang of sympathy pulled at my heartstrings and kicked me square in my gut, but I didn't let Otis see that. I was certain he wouldn't appreciate it. He seemed to be the kind of man who hated to be pitied. I hoped he wouldn't pick up on the vibe I was bound to emit.

Otis placed the whiskey bottle back on the dresser, which was now half empty. "Also, sometimes I like ta continue ta destroy and desecrate my victims. That depends on what they were like while they were still alive. The frozen horror in their dead eyes is satisfyin', too. It's like they're still terrified while I continue ta defile 'em."

"Oh," I uttered.

He curled his hands around mine and gently squeezed, his eyebrows furrowing. "None o' this is fuckin' with yer head? Yer actin' like this is a normal fuckin' conversation. Any other girl would o' ran fer the fuckin' hills by now."

"No, I'm actually fascinated," I replied truthfully. "How long do ya hold on to the corpses?" 

Smirking, Otis rubbed circles on the backs of my hands with his thumbs. "I don't usually keep the bodies too long. Note I said _usually_. It depends on the cadaver and their appearance. The smell don't bother me. I'm around the stench o' death so much, I don't even fuckin' notice. 

Once the bodies start ta bloat and leak fluids, I have one o' my brothers come take 'em away and put 'em in whatever place I decide they b'long in so I can do whatever I wish with 'em. The skins are usually too far gone at that point, but the body parts, organs, and bones are a whole different story. You know what that's all about."

I nodded. "I most definitely do."

"I make art or furniture outta that shit. Some of it gets used fer shit fer Cutter's museum. I never keep cadavers to the point of active decay. I don't want maggots in my fuckin' bed or flies and beetles buzzin' around in my room, and I don't want bugs on my cock, either."

"Yeah, I can see why," I said.

"Oh," Otis added, grinned devilishly. "And sometimes, I make my victims perform sex acts on corpses and watch. That's prolly the best game of all. Watchin' some pathetic bitch make out with a corpse or lick a rotten pussy who knows they're gonna die by my fuckin' hand if they don't do what the fuck I tell 'em ta do..." 

His impish smile widened. 

"...well, that's a feelin' that's just too God damn good. I dunno if there's even an accurate word fer that feelin'. Rapin' 'em while they're doin' that shit is even better. The twist ta that particular game is my victim is gonna die no matter what. _Unless_..." Otis held up a finger. "...I decide ta keep one fer a pet. I do that occasionally. Even then, they all eventually die. Basically, it's all about doin' what I gotta do so I don't destroy the fuckin' world. That's pretty much it."

"That's actually captivatin' and not what I expected ya ta say at all. I didn't think ya'd gimme a real answer, let alone one that descriptive," I marveled.

"Why not? I don't got a reason ta lie or hide shit from you. You said ya accepted everythin' and liked me fer who I was," Otis pointed out.

"Hmph, that's true. Remind me not ta git on yer bad side," I said softly.

"I swore I would never hurt ya and I won't," he promised. Gathering my face in his hands, he gave me a soothing kiss. 

"But what if I somehow piss ya off? What if ya lose control?" I asked.

Shaking his head, he dropped his hands. "I won't. I have no desire ta hurt you. I only wanna make ya feel good in any way I possibly can, which is also a new concept I don't fuckin' understand."

"Do ya ever make yer victims cum?" I clapped my hand over my mouth. I wasn't sure where that came from. The words just flew outta my mouth.

Otis snickered. "It's okay, mama. You can ask me whatever ya want." He smiled fiendishly. "Yeah, I make 'em cum. That's part o' the game. I make their bodies betray 'em, which in turn mortifies 'em more than they've ever been in their entire pathetic fuckin' lives."

"Who hurt you?" I blurted, palming his scruff. "Someone had ta hurt ya ta make ya so violent. Were ya abused?"

Otis's eyes bugged out momentarily. The fact that I had figured that out disturbed him. The hellfire in his eyes ignited, but he managed to extinguish it. 

"I was, but none o' that matters now. That's all in the past," he grumbled.

"Is it? I don't think you'd be playin' these games if it was," I claimed. "Whatever happened to ya is still in yer head. It's what makes ya so angry that ya gotta lash out."

Otis's eyes narrowed. "You need ta stop bein' so fuckin' intelligent."

"I can't. We're connected, remember?" 

I moved a lock of hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear. Releasing a sigh as I stroked his bushy jaw, he relaxed under my touch.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"You ain't gotta talk 'bout that if ya don't wanna," I whispered.

Clutching my hip, Otis lifted my chin and seized my lips with his own. We kissed slowly, our energies mingling like they had earlier. The leftover whiskey in his mouth mixed with mine and a blanket of peace shrouded us. All traces of what we had discussed emptied from my mind. All I could think about was his touch and my rising libido.

Loosening the drawstring on his pants caused them to slip down his hips more than they already had. He shuddered as I brushed my fingers through his happy trail and the edge of his pubes. That seemed to be an erogenous zone of his. He had reacted the same way on the front porch.

Delving his tongue into my mouth, Otis slid his hand under my negligee and gave my ass a light squeeze. I smoothed his hair and pushed it behind his back. As our tongues danced, I pushed his pants down. They fell to his feet and he kicked them aside. I closed my hand around his cock, pleased that he was already fully erect. Moaning, he grabbed the back of my neck and deepened the kiss.

I yearned to taste Otis's cock. I almost dropped to my knees, but that horrid condom smell drifted up my nostrils. I had to get rid of that latex stench. Breaking the kiss, I sighed.

"Hey," I whispered against his damp lips.

"Yeah, mama?" He rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes piercing mine.

"Would ya let me do somethin'?"

"Maybe. Depends on what it is."

"Can I warsh ya?"

"What?" Otis muttered, his eyebrows pinching together. He was clearly confused as to why I would want to do that.

"I hate the smell o' condoms. I wanna suck yer cock, but I don't wanna smell _that_. I wanna smell and taste _you_, not some rubber cum catcher," I explained. "And I definitely don't wanna smell myself on yer balls."

"If that's what it's gonna take fer ya ta enjoy yerself, then yeah."

We unhanded each other and mosied into the bathroom. Putting the toilet seat down and plopping down on it, I turned on the tub and grabbed a washcloth. Otis stood in front of me with his hands at his sides, watching closely as I soaked the washcloth and half-rung it out. 

Taking his shaft in my hand, I moved the washcloth over his length and around the ridges on the head until water droplets dripped from his cock. Rinsing the cloth, I added a tiny bit of body wash and worked up a lather. I cleaned the condom smell away with slow, careful gestures, occasionally glancing up at him to see how he was feeling. His hooded eyes and ragged breaths were a huge indication he enjoyed what I was doing.

"Ya like this?" I murmured. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," Otis lisped. 

"Has anyone ever really nurtured you?"

"No."

"I had a feelin' ya'd say that. Well, I'm gonna. Ya know why?"

He shook his head.

"Cuz I wanna. I'm gonna do it a lot, too."

Otis moaned softly as I cupped his balls. I washed them delicately, being extra cautious so I wouldn't hurt him. When I was finished, I squeezed out the rag and hung it over the side of the tub.

"Git in so I can rinse ya," I said.

He complied. Filling a giant plastic cup with warm water I used for rinsing my hair while I took baths, I repeatedly poured it over his cock and balls. I made sure to splash between his thighs so there was no leftover soap on his taint or asshole.

Once I was sure Otis was completely clean and soap free, I turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel. I offered it to him, but he shook his head. He wanted me to dry him off, which I was more than happy to do. After all, I had just told him I would nurture him.

Nodding, I pointed to the bath mat. Otis stepped onto it. I stooped and started with his feet. Making my way up his legs, I lingered on his inner thighs before patting his balls. His cock was the last thing I touched. He was as hard as a brick and weeping.

"Ya know somethin'?" I asked, pushing to my feet.

"What?" he husked.

As I hung the towel on the back of the door, my negligee raised up in the back, revealing my naked ass. Otis came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. His cock rested in my ass crack, his hands gliding over my front side and gently squeezing my tits. As he sucked on my jaw, my next words materialized as a whimper. 

"Did ya have somethin' ta say?" he teased.

Chuckling softly, he licked the shape of my ear. I squeaked as his fingertips grazed through my pubes. Moving my hair out of his way, he nibbled on my shoulder and gently bit my jugular.

"Fuck..." I moaned. "I dunno how any woman resists you."

"That's what you were gonna say?"

Otis gripped the hem of my lingerie. As I raised my arms, he pulled it over my head and dropped it on the floor. Turning to him, I circled my arms around his neck and gave him a long, juicy kiss. He ran his hands up and down my sides, making my nipples harden into stiff peaks.

"No. I'll tell ya once yer in the bed," I purred, backing away. 

Grunting, Otis wandered into my bedroom with me. 

\-----------

Please leave a vote or comment if you enjoyed the chapter!

A/N: I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. My brain can't seem to verb correctly, so you're getting a chapter I'm not completely satisfied with. The perfectionist in me says it sucks, but my beta reader swears it's good, so I hope it is.


	11. Chapter 11

As we reached the bed, Otis husked, "Mmph. Look at that tight ass."

I smiled and faced him. "What about my chest? Ya ain't said shit 'bout that."

His eyes shimmered as they skimmed my rack. "Yer titties're fuckin' perfect."

Clasping his wrists, I placed his hands over my breasts. "Touch me."

Otis took control. He cupped, bounced and squeezed, his large paws making my ample cleavage seem small in comparison, which it most certainly was not. My nipples stiffened under his rough palms. He prodded them with his thumbs, pinching and rolling gently. Grabbing his beard with both hands, I pulled his mouth to mine for a succulent kiss. As our tongues caressed, the smell and taste of whiskey mixed with his usual sweetness, overwhelming my senses and making my knees weak.

Breaking the kiss before I lost my balance, I shoved him down on the bed. He chuckled as I hopped on top of him and plucked stray hairs out of his beard. That musical laugh of his did strange things to my insides. Rubbing over my back, he slid his hands down to my ass and kneaded both cheeks.

"Lift up a second," I said in a sultry tone. He obeyed, nipping my jaw as I propped some extra pillows under his head and upper back. "That's so you can see better when I blow ya."

Otis smirked and laid back. "Works fer me, mama."

"Good." I leaned down and gave him a juicy kiss. "You asked me in the bathroom if I had somethin' ta say. I was gonna say we can play some games if ya wanna. You can dominate me, tie me up, chain me down, blindfold me, toss me around, pull my hair, take me however ya want. The only difference is it'll be consensual."

"Hmph, like BDSM?" he clarified.

"Yeah." I nodded. "We do that here. I'm the one who's in control in those situations, but I'd let ya have all the power. You can be rough. I trust ya that much. I know ya wouldn't hurt me."

"I wouldn't," he promised.

"You can choke me, smack me around a lil, do whatever ya want."

"But _he_ did those things," Otis grumbled, fire rising in his eyes. "I don't wanna-"

"Baby, you ain't Marquis," I stated, smoothing his hair. "I know ya ain't gonna try and kill me. Ya ain't gonna smack me hard enough ta leave bruises, either. You have enough experience with yer victims ta know where that line is that ya shouldn't cross. You'd also stop if I told ya no or said a safe word. Somethin' tells me I wouldn't have ta say shit, though. I think ya'd know if I didn't like somethin'."

"I _would_ know. I'd feel it," he said softly, the inferno receding. "And yer right; I'm aware o' where that line is that I shouldn't cross. I would stop b'fore I went too far." The strange glint he had in his eyes earlier returned. "What about knife play? Ya ever done that?"

"No." I shook my head. "Charlie don't allow weapons on the property, but I'm aware you and Cutter both carry anyway. I'd let ya use a knife if that's what ya wanted. We can roleplay. You can even cut or rip my clothes off. Ya just can't draw blood."

"Woah..." Otis marveled, tilting his head to the side. "I didn't expect fer ya ta agree ta that. Would ya play the part o' the victim fer me?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"Hope you like what you see," he said under his breath. "Cuz that part o' me ain't very fuckin' nice."

"Ya never know. I'm an odd duck. I might like it. I've seen bits and pieces o' the monster under the surface; like when you and Cutter argued in the past, or earlier when ya told Candy ya'd cut her like a pig and make her eat her own fuckin' intestines. You were serious about that."

Otis laughed heartily. "I was! That stupid bitch has no fuckin' idea how close she came ta death!"

I giggled. "Accordin' ta Charlie, Candy used ta be yer favorite, but ya spoke to her like she was trash."

"Yeah, well, she don't got shit on you," he insisted, running a fingertip down my jaw. "She's just a whore. Yer much more than that."

I smiled, my heart melting. "What ya said ta her should o' scared me, but it didn't. It kinda turned me on."

"Really?" He shoved an arm behind his head, his interest piqued.

"Yeah. I like the dominant side o' ya. It's hot as fuck. Just think 'bout what I said 'bout the BDSM. I think we could both benefit from that."

"Oh, there ain't no thinkin' involved. I'm in. Just don't fuckin' call me daddy," Otis warned, his mouth twisting into a scowl. "I won't like that at all."

Leaning down to give him a luscious smooch, I decided not to question him about his past. His old man obviously had something to do with whatever abuse he had endured, and he didn't want to be reminded of that during playtime. "I won't. What should I call ya? Do ya have a preference?"

He shrugged. "You ain't gotta call me nothin' if ya don't wanna. My name'll work just fine."

I grunted. I would call him whatever pet name felt right when the time came. Scooting down, I kissed and licked over the scratches I had previously inflicted upon his chest. Tracing the flying skull tattoo with the tip of my tongue, I plucked one of his nipples. He groaned and fisted my hair.

"Fuckin' bite me," he demanded. "Make it fuckin' hurt."

Sucking and nibbling his nipple, I tugged with my teeth.

"Harder," Otis commanded. He hissed as I increased the pressure in my jaw. "Yeah, that's good. Just like that, mama."

I alternated between biting and teasing, listening to his melodic sounds of pleasure before switching to his other side. As I applied pain to his untouched nipple, I soothed the bite marks on the other one with my thumb. He was going to have bruises and look like he got into a fight with a hellcat by the time he went home.

When Otis had enough, he pushed on my head. I proceeded downward and kissed and sucked over his abs. He shivered as I lapped his sex lines, goosebumps lighting up his flesh.

"Fuuuckk..." he husked.

His cock was bone hard, weeping, and more than ready for my mouth. I closed my hand around the base and massaged but didn't jerk up and down. Kissing a circle around his belly button, I dunked my tongue inside. He moaned my name, desperate to feel my lips around his cock.

"Ssh..." I hushed. "Ain't done yet."

I lowered myself off of the bed and onto my knees. I longed to suck on Otis's thighs. They were lean just like every other part of his body. I started above his knees and worked my way up. The closer I got to his groin, the heavier his breathing became.

"Holy Miss Moley," he groaned as I bit his inner thigh. "Fuck, do that again."

I left teeth marks behind more than once on both sides before further opening his legs. He didn't stop me as I sucked the crooks of his thighs and left brands. As I lazily jerked his length, he fisted the sheets.

"Stop yer fuckin' teasin', Cherry!" Otis snarled.

Giggling, I hovered over his cock. Firmly holding his shaft, I licked from base to tip and swirled my tongue around the head.

"Shit, fuuuck..." he moaned, his face scrunching.

Imagining the head was Otis's tongue, I sucked, kissed, and made out with it. Gliding my tongue around the ridges and up and down the slit drove him crazy. He couldn't stop groaning, and I couldn't stop savoring his salty-sweet pre-cum. He was flat out scrumptious. It was the first time in God knows how long since I had blown a man without a condom. Whatever he had consumed before arriving at the _Fun House_ had made him taste heavenly.

My clit pulsed, my pussy clenched, and my own wetness drizzled from my crevice and soaked my thighs. I needed him to bang the fuck out of me. Eager for friction, I clamped my legs together and whined.

"What's the matter, mama?" Otis gruffed, stroking my hair.

"Nothin'," I purred, gazing at him through my eyelashes. "I'm just really turned on."

"Hmph."

Dipping two fingers between my thighs, I coated them with my nectar. As soon as I held them up, he pushed up on his elbow. Grabbing my wrist, he yanked my hand toward his mouth and slurped my fingers between his lips. Sucking them clean, he released my fingers and fell onto his back.

"Christ," he muttered. "Now I understand why ya call yerself Cherry. Ya really do taste like those fruity motherfuckers. Every single fuckin' part o' ya."

I took the opportunity to curl my lips over my teeth and sink down over the head of Otis's cock. He grunted as I rubbed over him with the roof of my mouth. Grabbing my hair in both hands, he forced his cock further into my mouth. He squirmed as I hollowed my cheeks and slowly descended his shaft, all the muscles in his lean body tense with anticipation.

His balls had tightened. If I blew him hard and fast enough, he would explode, but that wasn't what I wanted. I desired to bob leisurely and memorize every vein in his cock with my tongue. I eased farther and farther down his cock until he was in my throat, curling my tongue around him and laving the entire way.

"Shiiiit, fuuuuck..." Otis hissed as I polished the head at an agonizingly slow rate. "Use yer teeth. Just a lil bit."

I had never had a man request that before, but he seemed to like pain, so I wasn't surprised. Grazing his shaft with my fangs, I massaged his taught ballsack.

"Yeah, mama...fuuuck..."

He was dangerously close to cumming. Every portion of his cock throbbed, and his pre-cum had turned extra thick and salty. Letting go of his shaft as I deep-throated even further, I immersed my fingers in his pubes and scratched his skin.

Otis tossed his head back and forth, obscenities and my name spewing from his mouth. Unable to help himself, he held my head in place while he erratically thrust his hips. Humming, I flexed my throat to help push him to the brink of ecstasy. His entire body stiffened as he reached climax.

"Fuuuck!" he growled, his back arching.

Spurt after spurt of warm, sticky semen splashed down my throat, and I swallowed it like the greedy whore I was. I didn't stop sucking and gulping until Otis was trembling and I was sure he had been drained dry. Withdrawing carefully, I let his cock pop out of my mouth. Spittle clung to my lips. He removed his hand from my hair and wiped it away with a shaky thumb.

Sighing, I rested my head on his hip and licked my lips to relish his taste. "I just broke a major rule by blowin' ya without a condom."

"Ain't the first rule ya've broken," he panted, petting my hair. "Now git yer sexy ass up here and lemme return the fuckin' favor."

I didn't argue. My pussy was drenched and I was dying to get off. Otis moved over so I could lay on the pillows, then climbed over top of me on wobbly limbs.

"Hey," I murmured, tucking his hair behind his ear. "There's no rush. Just relax a minute and recuperate."

Nodding, he lowered his weight onto me and nestled his head in my tits. I wrapped my arms around him and twisted his hair in my fingertips.

"Ya alright?" I asked as his buzzy energy mingled with mine.

"I'm more than alright," Otis said under his breath. "I feel like I'm-" He groped for words.

"Inside my soul," I whispered, combing my fingers through his hair. "Like-"

"I'm home," he finished, glancing up at me.

Staring into his icy blue eyes was like looking at a mirror of my inner thoughts. Smiling, I released a blissful hum. "That's how I felt when ya first came in my bathroom and we hugged. I didn't tell ya at the time cuz I was too overwhelmed, but I cried because I was relieved. Ya took a part o' me with ya when you and Cutter went back ta Ruggsville. T'day, ya brought that part o' me back. I'm prolly gonna go through that every time ya leave and return, although, I may not show it."

Otis nodded. After a passionate kiss, he cupped my breast and snaked his tongue around my hard nipple. His fingertips rubbed back and forth over my other one, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body. Rather than close my hooded eyes, I watched his every move. It had been a long time since a man had paid attention to my tits.

He flicked and pulled with his fingertips, his moist tongue lapped, and his lips sucked. I arched my back into his touch, a delighted sigh leaving my lungs. Switching sides, he tenderly gnawed on my sensitive bud.

"Jesus," I moaned as he tugged with his teeth.

Otis was like a hungry dog in heat. Kneading both of my tits in his ginormous hands, he licked, bit, and twisted until I was wriggling and clawing his shoulders. His hair brushed my skin, his teeth grazing my skin as he swapped back and forth between nipples. Electricity shot through my gut and down to my clit every time he changed sides, making it pulse.

I groaned as he slid his hand down my belly and stroked my pubes. He examined my wet folds while trailing the tip of his tongue down the valley between my tits, but he didn't penetrate my opening or stimulate my clit. Moving down slightly, he licked a circle around my belly button. Much like I had done to him, he dunked his tongue inside, except he hovered and fucked my navel with his tongue.

"Christ," I mewled, bucking against his exploring fingers.

"Yer so fuckin' wet," Otis murmured.

"Mmmm...I ache...I need you."

"Alright, mama. I gotcha."

Dropping off the bed, Otis kneeled in front of my open thighs and brushed his lips through my sparse pubes, his breath blowing through them lightly. He inhaled the aroma of my dripping sex eagerly, his hands shoving my legs further apart.

"Did a doctor check ya?" he asked. Opening my pussy lips with his thumbs, he inspected my insides.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Charlie had me checked over by a professional."

"Good lil nutsack," Otis grunted.

Kissing my thighs, he sucked and bit but didn't leave marks, but he wanted to. Every time he had to pull away so he wouldn't leave a brand, he growled in frustration.

"Oh, fuck!" I cried out as he ran his tongue through my wet folds and dipped it inside my warmth.

Otis groaned and slurped my flowing honey. His beard nuzzled my sensitive flesh, tickling my clit and inner thighs. He probed my entire cavity with his tongue as much as he could before I moaned and fisted his hair.

"Please, baby," I begged.

He withdrew from my crevice with a snicker. Exposing my clit, he closed his mouth over it. Sucking, he fluttered his tongue. Two of his fingers delved into my glazed tunnel, searching for my g-spot. I moaned, impressed he even knew what a g-spot was. Most men had no clue it even existed. He massaged that special spot and lapped my clit like a pro, and I thought I would die from ecstasy right there in my own bed.

"Oh, my fuck," I whimpered, mashing his face into my pussy.

Otis slowly ran his tongue back and forth and up and down over my engorged nub, enjoying his meal. When he wasn't lapping, he was sucking and circling. Reaching up, he grabbed one of my tits and squeezed. His fingertips pinched and tweaked my nipple, making heat radiate through my body. Molten lava coiled in my gut and my walls clenched his working fingers.

He groaned, sensing my approaching orgasm. I couldn't help grinding against his hot mouth. I gripped his hair tighter, my nails digging into my palms. My knuckles turned white as the pleasure built in my gut until I was a trembling, writhing mess.

"Fuck, Otis! Fuck!" I whined.

Without warning, he gently nipped my clit. Stars filled my eyes, they rolled back in my head, and I exploded. A silent wail escaped my gaping mouth, pleasure washing through my body in waves as my pussy convulsed. Withdrawing his fingers from my pussy, he clutched both thighs, held my quivering hole to his mouth, and slurped up my squirting climax.

Black dots danced across my vision. I was afraid I was going to pass out. Thankfully, the spots cleared. I was left breathless and exhausted as I descended from my orgasmic high. Otis kissed over my pubes and lower belly. As he nuzzled my navel with his furry face and laid his head against me, I released his hair from my fists and smoothed it.

"Fuck, that was sooo good," I gushed.

"Yes, it was," he lisped, caressing my side. "Yer fuckin' delicious."

"I need ya ta fuck me," I said bluntly. "I need it rough."

"Good cuz I'm hard again. Git on yer hands and knees," Otis instructed, straightening up.

I obeyed, flopping over and forcing myself up on weakened limbs. He grabbed a condom off the nightstand and ripped it open. Getting into position behind me, he rolled it down his length.

"God damn, look at that tight fuckin' ass," he rasped, smacking my ass cheek.

"Again," I moaned.

Otis snickered and cracked my other cheek.

"Oh, yesss...fuck me..."

Grabbing his cock and lining the head up with my entrance, he gripped my hip and sunk inside.

"Oh, my fuck..." I gasped as he filled my chasm all the way up to my cervix.

Otis paused to let me adjust to his large size, then withdrew and slammed back into me, making me cry out. Clutching both hips, he thrust in and out at a rapid pace. My knees started to buckle, but he kept a firm hold on my hips, preventing me from toppling over.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, mama," he swore. "I gotcha."

Once I had regained some strength, I met him push for pull. We found a rhythm which suited us perfectly, and he braced a hand on the bed so he could bend over and fondle my tits. His mouth attacked my backside, his tongue trailing up and down my spine and his lips kissing my sensitive skin. His cock stimulated all the spots inside of me that felt phenomenal. He fucked me deeper than any man ever had before, his balls slapping against me as he repeatedly bumped my cervix.

Pressing his chest against my back, Otis yanked my hair. My head snapped back, and he clamped down on my jugular. Snarling, he increased his frantic pace.

Mewling, I reached up and grabbed the headboard. He rose with me, his free hand descending between my legs to strum my clit. Releasing the vein in my neck, he soothed it with his tongue before sucking on my ear. He grunted and growled, still wrenching my hair as he pistoned into my pussy. My ass jiggled with every plunge his cock made. Heat boiled in my gut and I squealed as my inner walls flexed.

"Yer gonna cum," Otis husked, circling my clit quickly.

A moan was the only response I was capable of. Flattening his pelvis against mine, he rocked into me, hitting my g-spot with just the right amount of pressure. He had no reason to hold back and fucked me as hard and fast as he could. Biting the crook of my neck, he released my hair and clamped his hand around my throat.

The lack of oxygen pushed me over the edge. I stiffened and my pussy spasmed, my walls clamping down on his cock so tightly he had a hard time staying inside of me. My juices soaked his cock and dripped onto the bed.

Otis climaxed instantly, his cock throbbing inside me as he filled up the condom. "Shit, fuck!" he growled, continuing to pump into my pussy until his balls were completely empty.

Once he was milked dry, he let go of my throat, pulled out of me, and collapsed onto the bed. I tumbled down next to him, both of our chests heaving. When I could breathe, I rolled towards him. He gathered me in his arms, and we kissed deeply and passionately until we needed air.

"Jesus H Christ," Otis panted.

"Yeah," I breathed.

Reaching between us, I removed the full condom from his softening cock and dropped it in the trash can. We wrapped our bodies around each other and continued to kiss slowly and gently.

"Ya ain't gonna run this time, are ya?" I asked.

"Fuck no," Otis said firmly. "Stayin' right here."

"I'm gonna be sore. I would kill someone ta soak in a hot bath right 'bout now."

"I gotcha, mama," he said, his eyes glowing.

Kissing my forehead, he climbed out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom. He had fucked me so hard he had trouble walking. The faucet squeaked as he turned it on, and water rushed into the tub. After plugging it, he returned to help me up.

"C'mon," Otis coaxed as my eyes drooped. "Ya said ya hate the smell o' condoms. Let's git in the tub and git rid of it."

Nodding, I stumbled into the bathroom with him. He got in the tub first, then I sat between his thighs and rested my back against his chest. The water was the perfect temperature and had bubbles from one of my body washes.

"This is nice. Thank you," I murmured.

"It was a good idea," Otis mumbled, his wet hands rubbing over my exposed shoulders.

I turned on my side and nestled my head into his shoulder. I nodded out, but I was still conscious enough to feel his lips on my hair, jaw and face, and his damp fingers on my neck. I have no idea how long we soaked until he woke me up to drain the tub and get out. Drying both of us off, he hung up the towel and led me back to bed. Covering us with a sheet, he spooned me and slung his arm over my side.

"Otis?" I muttered.

"Hmm?"

"Ya ever do any o' this shit with Candy?"

"What shit?"

"Kiss her, hold her, sleep in her bed, sit in the tub t'gether?"

"Fuck no, and I certainly never had no weird fuckin' spiritual connection with her, either. Why?" Otis inquired.

"Just wonderin' cuz she acts jealous, like I stole ya away from her," I explained.

He huffed out a laugh. "That bitch is fuckin' crazy. I told ya, yer different."

I grunted, enjoying the sensation of his lips on my skin as they traveled over my shoulder and into the crook of my neck. He kissed my temple and relaxed, his hand sliding over the curve of my hip. It had been years since a man had held me in bed, and it was better than I remembered. 

"Who do ya b'long to fer the time bein'?" Otis questioned. "Whose whore're you?"

"You. I'm yers," I replied, meaning every word.

"That'a a girl." He patted my belly.

Resting his cock in my ass crack, Otis cupped my breast. As he slipped from consciousness, his rhythmic breathing lulled me into a deep slumber.


	12. Chapter 12

***Present day - 1995***

A creaking floorboard interrupted my memories. My eyes flicked to the hallway, where Otis lurked like a nosferatu in one of the darker shadows. I had felt his energy enter the house long ago. He had been eavesdropping on my conversation with Gabriel for a while. The funny thing was, Gabriel had no idea his daddy was hovering.

The corners of Otis's mouth lifted into a loving smile and his eyes shimmered. I grinned back, drinking in his hair and beard, which were longer than ever. Now that he was in his mid 60's, every hair on his body had turned coin gray except his mustache and a stripe down the middle of his beard; they were charcoal gray. His eyes were as intense and icy blue as ever. The faded denim overalls and navy blue flannel shirt he was wearing were filthy. He had been outside tending to the farm animals.

"Mama?" Gabriel muttered from my lap, patting the hand I had resting on his chest. "Ya must be rememberin' somethin' real special cuz yer eyes are sparklin' like diamonds."

I gazed down at the porcelain-skinned teenage boy who was his daddy's younger version and stroked his scruffy cheek. I had told him everything that had happened between Otis and I, but I had omitted all the graphic sex details. I mentioned we had fucked when it was appropriate to the story, and he was aware of our spiritual connection, but what kid wants to know intimate details about their parent's sex life? I had left that part of my memories for myself.

Exhaling, I said, "Yeah. Bein' with yer daddy was heaven on earth. It still is. After those first couple o' days, we didn't fuck like the first time until years later. We both got scared and closed off. The sex was incredible every time yer daddy came ta Charlie's, but it wasn't like that. We still had the connection, but we didn't talk 'bout it again 'til 12 years later when I was pregnant with you and yer daddy came ta claim me. I still heard 'im in my head and felt 'im when he wasn't around; I still dreamt 'bout 'im, too, and he experienced the same things, but we weren't ready ta admit we had loved each other since we first laid eyes on each other. I didn't say those three terrifying words 'til I was in the back of a van with yer daddy on our way ta Ruggsville. Cutter and Baby were in the front, and I fucked yer daddy right where they could see us. That's when I told 'im I loved 'im fer the first time, and he said it back."

Gabriel laughed. "Christ, mama! You ain't got no shame!"

Smirking, I shrugged. "Well, I was a whore, son. I didn't care who saw me fuck. I still don't. Cutter could walk in the room t'day while I'm bangin' yer daddy and I wouldn't care. It's happened several times since you were born and we fled from Ruggsville. The only difference now compared ta back then is I'm yer daddy's whore. I b'long ta him and no one else."

"That spiritual connection, do y'all still have that t'day? Do y'all fuck like that now?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, yeah. That connection is stronger than ever. We fuck every God damn day; sometimes more than once. Sometimes we fuck all night long. Ya know those days where I'm real tired and nap on the couch while I'm watchin' TV? Those are the days after I fucked yer daddy all night long."

Gabriel's eyes bugged out of his skull. "Oh, my fuck! He's usually asleep _with_ you. Yer always cuddled up' in 'is lap with 'is arms around ya, and yer head is buried in 'is shoulder."

"Hmph, yeah." I released a blissful sigh. "There's nothin' more peaceful than sleepin' in yer daddy's arms."

He chuckled. "And all this time I just thought y'all were tired cuz yer old."

"No, ya lil shit!" Giggling, I smacked his lean chest, which only made him laugh harder. "Yes, we're old, but we still got plenty o' energy! And I'm only in my early 50's!"

"I'm just jokin'." Gabriel snickered and squeezed my hand. "Daddy's still as strong as a fuckin' ox. Hell, just last night he slammed some fucker we got in one o' the cages down in the basement onto the floor and broke 'is arm."

"Yup. It's all the farm work he does. It keeps 'im in excellent shape."

I peeked at Otis, who flashed me a devilish grin. I couldn't help moistening and biting my bottom lip. That deep sexual attraction we shared in the beginning had escalated a millionfold over the years. He knew my mind was stuck in the gutter, and he was aware of what I was thinking about. He had clutched my ass in his large paws and fucked me against our bedroom wall that morning before he had ventured outside to take care of the farm animals. Not many 66 year old men were capable of that kind of strength.

"Everythin' yer mama told ya, that's exactly how it was and how it still is," Otis said softly, his eyes holding regret.

At the interruption of his daddy's voice, Gabriel flinched. Shooting to a sitting position, he twisted around to glare at Otis.

"Hey, baby," I said, smiling brightly. I didn't mention he had been there for most of the conversation.

Otis's blue eyes glittered as he stepped out of the shadows. "Hey, mama."

"How long ya been there, daddy?" Gabriel demanded to know.

"Long enough ta hear most o' what Marlowe told ya," Otis replied.

"Oh." Gabriel straightened out and put his feet on the floor. "I had no idea."

"I didn't wan'cha ta know. I didn't wanna interrupt yer mama."

Otis padded into the living room in his bare feet and plopped down on the coffee table across from us. He didn't want to get the furniture dirty. I would jump all over his ass if that happened.

"I wanna tell ya somethin', Blaze." Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and laced his dirty fingers together.

Gabriel shrugged. "Okay, go for it."

I just settled into the couch cushions and listened. I was aware of what Otis was going to say. We had talked about what he planned to tell Gabriel once he knew the truth about me years ago.

"This is serious shit, boy, so just listen fer a few minutes," Otis said firmly.

Gabriel gave him the side eye. "Okay...."

Otis pursed his lips, that familiar inferno rising in his eyes. They loved each other dearly, but Otis could be a bit rough on Gabriel. They argued a lot about petty shit.

"Relax," I said, clasping my son's tense shoulder. "Yer daddy just has some points ta git across. That's all."

I always had to play the part of the peacemaker. Glancing at me, Gabriel nodded. The fire in Otis's eyes receded. After gathering his thoughts, he continued.

"Some folks say ya only really love one person all yer life. Ya might have feelin's fer others, but not like ya love that one person. When ya meet that one person, they change ya ferever. Once ya know ya love 'em, ya just know. Sometimes, it takes a while 'til yer sure 'bout what ya want. After that, ya wanna kill yerself fer all the wasted fuckin' time. The thing is, ya can't go back. You can only move forward. Acceptin' that is real hard, prolly one o' the hardest things you'll ever fuckin' do. If that person drifts in and outta yer life but eventually ends up stayin', that love is meant ta be. The only thing you can do is hope that when yer ready ta embrace that love, that they're ready, too."

"I've heard folks say those things b'fore," Gabriel said. "I've heard it in movies."

"Well, those things were true fer me." Otis jutted his chin in my direction. "They were true fer _us_. I loved yer mama since the first moment I saw her, and she loved me. When I looked in ta her emerald eyes for the first time, somethin' struck my blackened soul. It's the main reason I took her ta Charlie's. I didn't know what a real relationship was or how ta have one, but I knew I had ta somehow keep her in my life. That scared the fuck outta me. I didn't know how to handle my emotions. Yer mama invoked shit in me I didn't know existed. I was spellbound. I knew she was _the one_. I regret not takin' her home sooner. I should o', but I wasn't ready. I wasted 12 years, son; 12 fuckin' years I could o' had with her by my side.

It wasn't until I ran in ta her in Ruggsville at _Red Hot Pussy Liquors_ that I knew I was ready ta make her a permanent part o' my life. We were in Charlie's car t'gether when it hit me. She was drivin', I had my arm around her shoulders, and that realization crashed down on me like a ton o' fuckin' bricks. That night, we killed t'gether fer the first time, and I knocked her the fuck up. I did that shit on purpose. I marked her as mine for ferever by impregnatin' her with you."

"That's some heavy shit, daddy," Gabriel marveled.

"Told ya. Shit's 'bout ta git a whole lot heavier, too," Otis warned. "Do ya know what twin flame soulmates are?"

"I've heard o' soulmates but never twin flames," Gabriel admitted.

_"_Alright, lemme explain. There're different types o' soulmates, but a twin flame is a person who yer connected to not just on a physical and emotional level, but also on a spiritual level. There's usually a large age gap b'tween 'em.

Twin Flames are our best friends, lovers, and teachers. They're the yins ta our yangs, the suns ta our moons, the light ta our inner darkness. They're our mirrors cuz they reflect all our hidden fears and shadows, but they also make our true inner beauty and strengths shine. Yer strengths and weaknesses balance each other perfectly. It's like meetin' yerself in another person. They open doors ta emotional, psychological, and spiritual growth.

When twin flames're t'gether, time doesn't exist. Ya feel like ya've always known each other, even if ya've just met. Yer twin knows ya better than anyone else ever has or will. There's an intense magnetic attraction b'tween 'em that never goes away. No matter how many times ya fight or go through somethin' fucked up, ya can't stay pissed at 'em, and ya always fergive each other. You can be yer true selves without fear o' rejection or judgment.

Ya teach each other empathy, compassion, and unconditional love. Ya feel what they feel, hear their inner thoughts, feel their energy when they walk in a room, or in some cases, the house. Their energy mingles with yers when ya touch, kiss, or fuck.

They make each other better people. They don't complete each other cuz they're souls are already complete. They compliment each other and help each other grow and mature spiritually. They're yer nurturers, yer muse. They don't try ta change ya, and they don't want to. They accept ya fer who ya really are; the good, the bad, and the ugly."

Gabriel nodded. "Why're ya tellin' me this? What's yer point? I know ya got one."

"Cuz, Blaze, yer mama is my twin flame. I've loved her fer 28 years, and that shit just keeps gittin' stronger every fuckin' day. I'm always gonna love her. I'll even love her when we're fuckin' dead, and I'm always gonna fuckin' find her, whether it be in Hell or in our next life. I'm always gonna find her, son; always. Even if I have ta sell my soul to the Devil, I'll fuckin' do it. I'm pretty sure I've done that already, but my point is I'll do anythin'. Now that I got her, I ain't ever fuckin' lettin' go o' her."

"Daddy, are ya sick?" Gabriel joked. "Yer talkin' 'bout feelin's and weird spiritual soulmate shit. You don't talk 'bout this kinda shit."

Otis laughed, his crooked front tooth on full display. "No, I ain't fuckin' sick, boy. I hid this shit from ya yer whole God damn life. I didn't wanna taint the saint-like image ya had o' yer mama. That wasn't my decision ta make. I knew she'd tell ya about the prostitution when she thought ya were ready ta know the truth, and she did."

"Oh," Gabriel uttered.

"Now, here's the answer ta somethin' ya've been askin' me 'bout fer years. Ya ready?"

"Yeah."

"Once I claimed yer mama as my personal whore and took her home, I stopped rapin' my victims with my cock. I also stopped fuckin' dead bodies cuz all I wanted was _her_. I just raped my victims in other ways, like with objects, cuz I had no desire ta stick my cock in 'em. I still liked humiliatin' 'em, so that's why I switched ta objects.

Plus, I felt like I'd be cheatin' on yer mama, and I didn't wanna hurt her like that. I love her way too fuckin' much ta inflict that kinda damage upon her. She's the only one who gits my cock now. She was, and still is, the only one who can satisfy my sexual urges and high sex drive. She knows what my impulses are and how ta deal with 'em. Remember what I said 'bout twin flames bein' teachers?"

Gabriel bobbed his head.

"Yer mama taught me things, and I taught her things, mostly through BDSM," Otis clarified. "We understand each other. We know what the other needs. She's the only person who can calm my inner monster."

Gabriel scratched his scruff. "That actually makes a lot o' sense. I can see how BDSM could be an outlet. That explains a lot o' y'alls behavior, too. Yer the dom, mama's yer sub."

"Yeah, exactly. Sometimes we switch, but that's rare. Anyway, I eventually realized the reason I did those things ta my victims in the first place was cuz my soul was searchin' fer yer mama, and I was usin' other vessels fer a release. I know that sounds weird as fuck but it's true. I was lost and I needed her. That's part o' the reason why I used ta hold dead bodies while I slept. Twin flames hunt all their lives 'til they find the one they're s'pposed ta be with."

"Woah," Gabriel awed. "I knew ya used ta rape yer victims and fuck their dead bodies like I do, but I didn't know why ya stopped. When ya ignored my questions 'bout that, I just figured ya didn't wanna talk 'bout it. That's some powerful shit."

Otis nodded. "Yer twin flame is the most intense spiritual connection you'll ever have if yer lucky enough ta find 'em like I was. Now ya know everythin'. I won't ever talk 'bout this shit again, so don't ever fuckin' ask me. I only talk 'bout that shit with yer mama. You wanna know somethin', ya ask her. You got me?"

"Yeah, daddy. I got it." Gabriel tipped his head.

"I'm done talkin'," Otis informed, his hardened gaze flickering to me.

A muffled scream rose from the basement. Gabriel's head whipped toward the distressed sound, and he jumped up.

"Well, reckon that's my cue ta leave the room. That's the bitch I brought in last night." Bending down, he kissed my cheek. "Love you, mama."

"Love you, too," I said, patting his scruff. "Have fun."

"Oh, I will," Gabriel hissed, his red-tinged eyes turning deadly.

He bolted from the room. Yanking open the basement door, he slammed it behind him and darted down the steps. Otis and I released a heavy breath at the same time, relieved the entire truth had been revealed and was out of the way.

"Shut the fuck up!" Gabriel roared from under us. "And you! Ya try anythin' else stupid, and my daddy'll break yer other fuckin' arm! He'll break yer fuckin' legs, too!"

"How's everythin' outside?" I inquired, bringing Otis out of his trance.

"Fine. Stormy's gonna have her kids any day now," he announced.

Stormy was our black goat with the white zigzag down her chest.

"Oh, good." I clapped. "Kids are so fuckin' cute."

Otis huffed out a laugh. "You would say that. We got too many chickens, though. Lil bastards are all over the fuckin' place. Cutter's gonna have ta make fried chicken outta some of 'em. I brought in a bunch o' eggs. One o' the pigs is ready fer slaughter, too. Wrangler's actin' like he's gittin' arthritis in 'is back legs. He's got some puffiness in 'is lower leg joints. He's real stiff when I first take 'im out, but then it gits better once he warms up."

"Well, he's gittin' old," I pointed out. "We got 'im right after we settled here."

"Yeah, I know, but that's Blaze's favorite horse, and he rides 'im hard. I'm gonna have ta make sure he takes it easy on Wrangler and teach 'im how ta care fer 'im better if we want Wrangler ta be able ta continue ta work. I need 'im ta help plow the fields. He's the strongest horse we got."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Gabriel _is _pretty rough on 'im. He's rough in general. Wonder where he acquired that from?"

Otis smirked. "Where the fuck's Cutter anyway?" He peered at the steps that led to the upstairs bedrooms. "Ain't seem 'im all God damn day."

Leaning forward, I lowered my voice. "He's fuckin' sick again. I'm tellin' ya, baby, somethin' ain't right. I think he's dyin' and don't wanna tell us. Ya know how fuckin' stubborn he is, and he won't go see a doctor. I think he's ready ta go, ta be honest."

He blew out a puff of air, his eyebrows pinching together. "Yeah, I know. I see it, too. Too bad Baby don't wanna see it cuz 'is death is gonna hit her real hard."

"It's gonna hurt you too, whether ya wanna admit it or not. I know y'all don't always git along, but ya love 'im just the same."

Otis gulped and stared at his lap. "Where the fuck's Baby? She should be here with 'im."

"Down at the local waterin' hole nabbin' herself a plaything."

"Oh. Reckon she'll deal with Cutter when she gits back."

I nodded. We reached for each other at the same time. Taking my hands in his, Otis sniffed the air deeply.

"What the fuck're ya cookin', Marlowe? That shit smells good, and I'm fuckin' starvin'. I whacked down a bunch o' weeds over by the main road and worked up a ragin' appetite."

I smiled. It was just like Otis to change the subject when hard topics were brought up.

"Barbecue pork in the slow cooker with carrots and taters," I replied.

"Aww, man," he groaned, his mouth watering. "Really?"

"Mmm, hmm."

"I gotta take a peek at that," Otis insisted.

"Well, c'mon. Let's go in the kitchen and take a look."

"I gotta warsh my hands anyway." He glanced down at our intertwined hands. "You prolly should too now that ya've touched mine. I was shovelin' horse shit b'fore I came inside."

"Yeah."

We stood up together, our lips meeting for a tender kiss before we wandered into the kitchen. Otis stood behind me at the sink, and I turned on the faucet. After we wet our hands, he squeezed soap into my palm. I rubbed my hands together, then slid them over his, washing away the grime. We could turn anything into a sexual game, this included.

As I continued to cleanse Otis's hands, he kissed my bare shoulder and sucked the crook of my neck. Grasping his wrists, I pulled his hands under the water and we rinsed. Turning off the faucet, I grabbed a hand towel and dried us off. I turned around, he wouldn't allow me to pass. He clasped the kitchen counter with both hands and boxed me in.

"What're ya doin', baby?" I asked softly, mesmerized by his passionate gaze.

"I meant what I said in there." He tipped his head toward the living room, his eyes glowing.

"I know."

Bringing a hand up, I tucked Otis's hair behind his ear and stroked his bushy jaw. Closing his eyes, he drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly, his nostrils flaring.

"I'm gonna find you, too. We're gonna find each other," I promised.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"C'mere."

Gripping his beard, I pulled Otis's mouth to mine. Wrapping his arms around me, he backed me against the counter and sucked and nibbled my lips one at a time. Our tongues flicked out at the same time to curl together. Our kiss was deep and hungry, and he lifted my sundress up my thighs so he could touch my bare skin. His hand glided up the back of my leg and over the curve of my naked ass, squeezing. Reaching between us, I palmed his full erection. Breaking the kiss, I pushed his hair over his shoulder.

"You need ta fuck me?" I purred, kneading his shoulder. My pussy was wet and achy from his necking and our needy kiss.

Otis's eyes dropped to my cleavage, his tongue snaking over his lips. "I always need ta fuck you. The stress o' the day is settin' in. I got tension that needs ta be relieved so I can work on a project t'night. Could use yer help; I got a block I can't seem ta break through."

"Whatever ya need, baby."

"What about what _you_ need?"

"Ya always gimme what I need."

Nodding, Otis picked up the lid on the slow cooker and glimpsed inside. "How long 'til this shit is done? It looks delicious."

I glanced at the clock on the microwave. "'Bout two hours."

"Good. I got enough time ta shower and fuck my gorgeous wife." Replacing the lid, he nudged his hand between my thighs and cupped my pussy.

I giggled. "I thought you were starvin'?"

Otis eyeballed some bagged beef jerky on the counter. "I am, but I'm also hungry fer _you_, mama. I know ya want me, too."

"I always want you."

Smirking, he slipped a finger between my glazed pussy lips. I moaned, my head rolling back as he teased my clit. He dipped his head to the hollow of my throat and sucked. His tongue trailed up to my chin, and he nipped my lip.

"Wha'da ya say we finish this in the shower? I'll bend ya over in there and fuck ya good and hard," Otis offered.

"I can't tell ya no," I murmured.

An impish smile lit up his features. "Never could."

"Don't wanna. Yer punishments're hell on earth."

"You like 'em or ya wouldn't act so God damn bratty all the fuckin' time," Otis accused. Snickering, he removed his hand from between my thighs and sucked his finger clean. "Even after all these years, ya still taste like fuckin' cherries."

"Yer right. I like 'em."

"I know. C'mon. Let's go upstairs."

He held out his hand. I clasped it, and he led me through the house and up the steps. As we neared Cutter's room, his chronic, phlegmy cough grated our eardrums. His coughing fit became so violent, he puked.

My eyebrows furrowed and I flicked my gaze to Otis, whose worried expression reflected my own. Stopping in front of Cutter's door, he banged on it.

"Cutter! You alright in there, ya old bitch hog?!"

"Yeah," he wheezed. "I will be."

"I done made up my fuckin' mind, Bozo! Marlowe's takin' ya to the hospital t'morrow!" Otis threatened. "I'm tired o' waitin' on Baby ta do somethin'! Be ready in the mornin'!"

"Can't do that, son," Cutter sputtered. "Might git recognized. Just lemme die in peace."

Otis gritted his teeth and worked his jaw back and forth. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"He's right," I reasoned, squeezing his hand. "If someone recognizes Cutter, they could find all of us. We don't need a repeat o' Ruggsville."

Grunting, Otis focused his attention on me. "Keep an extra eye on 'im, you hear me?"

"I will," I promised.

Satisfied, he tugged me into the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.

"I ain't ready," Otis admitted, his voice wavering. "He's the only real father figure I..." His lip quivered.

"Baby, I know. None of us are ready ta lose 'im. Even though Cutter's death is imminent, you can never prepare yerself enough. Let's just take a shower and do our thing. Baby can deal with 'im when she gits home."

Nodding, he embraced me and buried his face in my neck. I hugged back, giving him a soft kiss before we undressed.

"I need a drink," Otis muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his beard.

"With supper," I said.

"Okay," he agreed.

He turned on the shower. Climbing in, we distracted each other until it was time to eat.

\----------------

The End

A/N: That's all, folks! Hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I did writing it!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated if you like my work. However, they are not required.


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